Accelerando
by Lisp
Summary: 'Because he's an "insensitive idiot" and she's a "flat-chested bookworm", but they wouldn't have each other any other way.' A one-shot collection about a meister and her weapon, and a whole lot of awkward teenage feelings. SoMa.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: **__This is a collection of unlinked one-shots (following the manga). Basically, it's set after the formation of Spartoi and the events of the Book of Eibon, but before all moon-related chapters (unless stated otherwise). If you haven't read the manga, these will still make sense – Soul is just already a Death Scythe in the manga at this point. Also, Shibusen is the DWMA. It's just a different name for it, an acronym for the Japanese words. _

_Rating: T – for language (Soul and Black*Star as the main perpetrators, due to their character), and the occasional make-out scene, but there's nothing graphic or anything in here. Chill. This is Fanfiction, not 50 Shades of Smut._  
_Pairings: SoMa (maybe some Tsu*Star and KiLiz added in on the side, but these are mostly SoMa oneshots)._  
_There are song quotes at the start of each one-shot, but this isn't a songfic, don't worry. The Soul Eater characters aren't a musical. The titles of each one-shot also relate to the song (usually a lyric). _  
_Disclaimer: Fanfiction. FANfiction. Not OWNERfiction, because that's the actual thing. I in no way claim ownership of Soul Eater or any related part of it. All rights go to Atsushi Ohkubo and the respective owners. I also do not own the songs used at the beginnings of chapters._

_Okay, enjoy now, yeah. Cool._

* * *

**ONE – Sleep Until the Sun Goes Down**

_Some had scars and some had scratches,  
That made me wonder about their past.  
And as I looked around, I began to notice,  
That we were nothing like the rest.  
- "Mountain Sound", _Of Monsters and Men.

* * *

There was no one word to describe their lives - not that he could think of, anyway. 'Brutal' didn't seem strong enough due to what they'd seen. 'Bloodstained' was too inaccurate, as most of their opponents didn't even bleed human blood. 'Heroic' was toyed around with, but he shot that idea down in flames himself – after all, as weapons and meisters it was their job to risk their lives. What else could they do?

_Maybe that's the word we should use,_ Soul thought drily. _Risky._ He sighed as he looked around the brightly lit café, ever the master of cynicism. For some unknown reason, he was in a crappy mood, and the scenery was catching the brunt of it.

The golden sunshine was a lie created by an ever-laughing manic ball of hydrogen, as far as he was concerned today. The weapon couldn't count the amount of times he'd been a hairs-breadth from death, and the sun had laughed at his fate. The smiling faces of the people flocking the tables were also a falsehood – everybody here was upset about something, surely. After all, how perfect was life? And the absolute untruthfulness in the room was right before him, in the form of his friends. They all communicated and joked, boasted and shied away from probing questions. Besides Black*Star's manic yelling and Kid's rearrangement of the table's condiments, they could pass for normal teenage human beings.

But then life raised its hand and called _Bullshit,_ because these people were anything but normal teens. They were walking weapons in the fight against evil and insanity – literally. They were pawns in the great game of life. They were warriors, victims and victorious at the same time. Each person surrounding him, from the youngest Thompson sister Patti to the eldest group member Tsubaki, was just another scar.

Another injury, a reminder of pain, that hadn't amounted to death, but had left its mark and intended to show its impact on the world's overall existence.

Some scars were more prominent, such as Black*Star. The fool couldn't settle for anything less than a completely defacing injury with no chance of concealment. Then there were others like Tsubaki, a mere memory on a knee or wrist to show that yes, you had fallen, but you didn't really remember the incident that well.

Soul didn't know why he was being so freakin' depressing. He thought it was something to do with the café's coffee. But as he sat at that table and drunk in the feeling of normalcy, he sometimes wondered what it would be like if he weren't just another scar. If he was a person, a teenager. His life problems would be finding a girlfriend, passing his classes acceptably so that his parents didn't kick his ass, and choosing which car would make him look the coolest. But that wasn't Soul's life problem list. Instead, he was lined up against things like _massive injury, the death of everybody I care about, complete envelopment of madness, _and _an Oni that likes to mess with everything private and turn one's soul into their own fancy cocktail bar._

He could probably pin his angry emo cloud of thoughts on the other occupants of the small place in which they sat. Young, like him. With a group of friends, like him. But unlike him, the teenagers eating in the café were _safe._ Safe and carefree, like he used to be. Pure and innocent, gentle beings that mostly shied away from the sight of blood and guts.

For Soul, those images were pretty well part of _the freakin' job description_.

He wouldn't say he envied the people at the next table over – the three girls and two guys, having dinner out on a Friday night and probably celebrating the end of exam block*. No, cool guys didn't envy people. He – was frustrated with them. Was that the way to put it? Something about their airy, happy and carefree lives just sort of set his teeth on edge. Maybe it was his lack of empathy for them – after all, with his excessive family income, Soul never really had a normal childhood full of interaction with peers – but they just seemed so . . . useless. Were they contributing to the world? Sure, they _might _end up inventing some shit that cured cancer, but it wasn't likely. He wasn't being self-important, but he and Maka kicked ass on a regular basis to keep the world safe. How was it fair? Why did normal people get to sit back while he risked everything? Why could they try to calculate math problems while he calculated the risk of death on a mission? It wasn't fair, it was shit, and it was making him angry.

"Are you even listening to me?" he heard someone say impatiently. It took him a moment to realise Black*Star, his best friend (besides Maka, of course, but the 'friend' thing there wasn't really something he liked to think about much) had been lecturing him on something for the past few minutes.

"Uh, sure I am dude," Soul said weakly, trying to catch himself up on the rest of the group's conversation. The blue-haired assassin looked at him expectantly, as did Kid and the Thompson sisters. Maka and Tsubaki were having a side conversation. "What are you lookin' at me like that for?"

"I'm waiting for you to answer my question, duh!"

"What question?"

"See, I _knew _you weren't listening!" Black*Star wailed, much to Soul's irritation. _It's a freakin' public place, come on._ "How dare you ignore your God, Soul?"

The Death Scythe rubbed the back of his neck. "Dude, can you not yell? It's not cool."

"TSUBAKI! SOUL ISN'T LISTENING TO ME!"

"HAHAHAHAHA! Look, Sissy! He's going purple, like the monkeys in my colour book!" Patti crowed, to which the elder Thompson sister promptly face-palmed. Kid's condiment arrangement was jostled, causing a meltdown and a half, and now Black*Star was complaining louder so as to get more of the spotlight on him.

Soul sank down in his seat with an unrestrainable sigh, although there was undoubtedly a smirk on his face. _Scratch that. They didn't pass for normal teens._

"What's got you so depressed?" he heard from his right, and he turned to see Maka with her nose in her book. Clearly, Tsubaki's conversation hadn't been enough to keep his meister out of the land of ink and pages. Without looking up, she'd managed to tell he was in a funk, likely from her advanced Soul Perception and the link between his own soul wavelength and hers.

Instead of answering her, Soul just shrugged and trusted that her proximity to him would allow her to feel the movement. A small pout entered her features and she nudged him with her elbow, still not looking up from her novel. He didn't respond, and soon she was pushing that bony elbow into his ribs. He made a (sadly, very uncool) noise of pain and she grinned slightly, finally looking up.

"Jeez, woman," Soul complained, rubbing his side. "Why are you always so physical?"

_Aha, yep, that was an awesome time for everyone's conversation to stop,_ he thought suddenly as everyone at their table turned to look at him with wide eyes. "You heard what I said," he huffed, feeling a delicate – wait, not delicate, screw that, he was manly and cool as fuck – blush crawl up his neck.

Maka elbowed him again for good measure, pretending to read so her blush wouldn't be visible to everyone. Once the rest of the group was enveloped in more ridiculous antics – _because apparently we're the loony half of Spartoí, although I have my doubts about Ox sometimes_, Soul thought_ – _his meister spoke to him again in a decidedly less ostentatious approach.

"Seriously, what's up? You're really pissy, and it's distracting."

Soul grunted in a non-committed fashion. "S'nothing."

"If it's 'nothing', then why's your wavelength so jumpy?" Maka paused. "Are you mad at me?"

"Huh? No, not unless you did something that I should be pissed about and I don't know about it yet?" he probed, fretting for a second that his mood was going to get even more sour. Oni would start making comments if he got any more agitated.

"I didn't do anything!" she hissed, offended. At his raised white eyebrow, she shrugged at him, putting her book down. Soul was surprised. _She's actually serious if she's dropping the literature._ "Is someone else making you angry?"

"Not anyone at this table."

Maka's eyes lit with interest. She could complain about the 'fake' girls at school all she wanted, but Soul knew that she loved gossip just as much as the next female. "Someone at school?"

"Nah," he answered, and was rewarded with the satisfaction of her eyebrows scrunching together in confusion in a way he _didn't find adorable, damnit. Remember, manly as fuck_. Her facial expressions got so distracting sometimes, as did her skirt length . . . Soul knew why he was confused though. He wasn't exactly the most socially outgoing guy out there, despite the popularity from being a Death Scythe that kept throwing itself at him. She was probably wondering who it could be now.

" . . . Blair?"

"Wrong again," he answered, but he felt a frown on his face anyway. "Then again, she's in trouble when she gets back from work tonight."

"Why?" the blonde asked, still mulling over Soul's issue and who it was with.

"She's fucking _shedding_ on all of my stuff. And she shredded one of my band shirts yesterday to, and I quote, 'keep her pretty claws shiny.' Can you keep her in your room, _please?_"

"Why should I? It's _your _fault she came to live with us anyway, after all."

"So what, it's my fault that I'm just that cool and she wants to be around me? Yeah, uh-huh, I totally see how that's fair."

"Oh shut up," Maka said irritably, kicking him under the table. "Back to your sour mood. Seriously, who is it?"

Soul sighed and caved before she could whip out the infamous puppy eyes. "Fine. It's those people."

"Which people?"

"All of those teenagers over there," he said quietly, but Maka didn't continue on from his example of subtlety when she craned her neck and stared at the aforementioned group with a raised eyebrow.

"What are they doing to bother you, huh?"

He knew she wouldn't understand. After all, she'd always been a part of a weapon-meister family. She'd always known what her future was going to be, so she'd grown up viewing the world in a very different way to how he had. She'd experienced training and the lifestyle of a Shibusen student far before actually enrolling. Soul, on the other hand, had lived a shitty human life before finding out his true heritage. He'd been a part of a human family – although the Evans', in his opinion, were a sad excuse for a family. He'd understood all of the petty problems a normal person felt; abandonment, insecurity, fear of the irrational. Maybe that was a part of his dislike for the human species. They reminded him of his own life, and the way he used to be. That life had been simpler, but by no means pleasant for him. He'd sucked at everything he ever did, compared to his elder brother Wes. At least he knew how to be a weapon. Maka wouldn't get how it felt to not have that constant dangerous threat lurking over her head, so she'd have nothing to place humans in contempt for.

Still, he tried to explain it. "They're just so . . . free, you know?"

His partner's facial expression told him that _no, she did not know, please explain._

"Never mind. You wouldn't get it."

"Are you saying I'm not smart enough to understand?" Maka asked through her teeth, her hand visibly _itching _for that novel on the table. "Is that what you're saying?"

"What? No! Jeez, calm down, Tiny Tits!" Soul grumbled, narrowly avoiding a Chop due to her not hearing his use of the hated nickname. "You just haven't experienced it."

"Experienced _what?_"

"Normalcy."

He could see the sudden concern on Maka's face and realised that his wavelength must have jumped bitterly again. "What do you mean by that, Soul?"

"I mean, there's a life for some people where there aren't any monsters under the bed. Yeah," he re-iterated, "not in Death City, because we're the headquarters for everything Evil Ass-Kicking. But out there, in the real world, there are people who just . . . I don't know, exist. They don't do anything to fight evil. Hell, most of the time they're the ones fucking up and causing evil. I'm saying, you don't know what that's like. But I do. And it just kinda pisses me off that the world works like that sometimes," he finished. Maka nodded in surprise, contemplating his words.

"If," she started quietly, "there wasn't anyone to protect, or anyone to fight, why would we exist then? We'd be useless, just slightly powerful human beings. You'd probably be seen as evil yourself, and we wouldn't be partners."

"Yeah, but shouldn't there be at least _some _sort of give and take? I mean, they fight wars against _themselves _for crying out loud!"

"Wasn't the Kishin once a meister?" Maka argued. "We're fighting our own, too."

"But we have a purpose. It just bothers me that the rest of the world might not."

Maka nodded. "You're right. That's actually kind of sad. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't know what my future held. I mean, I've always known I'd grow up to make a Death Scythe and fight pre-Kishin."

Soul snorted. "Bet you didn't predict half the shit we've dealt with though. We're a freakin' freight train of weird disasters."

Maka laughed too. "You're right, but how would it feel to know you could grow up and end up with nothing? No purpose?"

"Well," he said after a slight pause, feeling the past swell inside him like an ocean tide, "it's actually pretty shit, I've got to say. You're forgetting, I didn't _know_ until I was eleven."

"True," Maka said sombrely. "But, you had the piano before that, right?"

"Are you kidding? Seriously?"

"I wasn't kidding, no. Why should I have been?"

"Because I'd never want to fucking live out my life as one of them," he said bitterly.

"_Them?_"

"You know what I mean."

"They're your _family,_ Soul," Maka said softly.

"Coulda' fooled me. You're family. These idiots at the table are family. _They're _the Terra Cotta army**."

Maka raised both eyebrows, impressed that he even knew what the Terra Cotta army _was_, let alone being able to use it in context. He merely shrugged again, giving an excuse that they were cool and therefore worthy of his knowledge.

"Well," his meister said quietly, "I feel sorry for them. They can never resonate souls. Think of everything they miss."

It was true, she was right. Soul knew that there were so many parts of being a meister-weapon team that made life much better compared to the dull human life. He guessed he should pity them too. _After all_, he puzzled as Maka, satisfied with her consolation of him, turned back to the table where Patti was folding napkin origami giraffes, _if I had to pick between being normal or risking my life to be able to bond with Maka and all of these weirdos._

_I'd have to make sure I knew how to get bloodstains out of my jackets, coz those things are _way _too cool to ever throw away._

So maybe he wasn't mundane. But he was a Death Scythe, and if he had to witness blood and guts on a daily basis to maintain his current life, he would. Because those teenagers could have girlfriends and boyfriends and whatever else, but they couldn't have a partner. They couldn't have Maka. That was one thing he could claim over anyone - even Wes. When all else failed, he had Maka, so he'd be fine.

At that moment, their food came out. Before Soul could quite shake the contemplation of blood and guts, he glanced down at his plate. Spaghetti and meatballs in normally mouth-watering, red, dripping, tomato sauce. But now all he could picture was intestines and blood and –

"Well, shit."

* * *

***- I don't know if you guys have this, but in Australia we have this thing in some schools called exam block, where you do all of your big tests for the semester (half year) in a specially organised set time period, so you know when to study and stuff. I guess it would be kind of like 'finals' for the USA? But I don't really know.**

****- The Terra Cotta army was the army made of stone in China under the rule of Emperor Qin. I'm not giving a history lesson, but just to make sure you know what I'm talking about, think of thousands of actual human replica statue soldier guys from thousands of years ago, perfectly sized. Soul's making a point that they look perfect but they're really just emotionless lumps of rock, if you're wondering why the Hell I mentioned this.**

**Hope you enjoyed this. Let me know if I've made any spectacular grammar fails or spelling errors, I have no proof reader besides my spell check on the laptop. Thanks.**


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: **__Second chapter. Same sort of ratings, pairings, etc. as the first one. I don't own Soul Eater or Linkin Park's 'Numb'. Also, I apologise for a seeming lack of SoMa, but there is always at least implied romance in every one-shot. In this one, it is more prominent and actually written about, to make up for last time. Sorry if I disappointed. _

_These one-shots aren't in order either. They're scattered and don't link at all, really – that's what a one-shot collection is. _

_Also, this entire song just completely explains Soul's past and thoughts on the Evans family. Anyone ever noticed? Enjoy._

* * *

** TWO – Caught in the Undertone**

_Tired of being what you want me to be,  
Feeling so faithless, lost under the surface;  
I don't know what you're expecting of me,  
Put under the pressure  
Of walking in your shoes.  
- For Soul, "Numb", _Linkin Park.

_And every second I waste is more than I can take.  
- For Maka, "Numb", _Linkin Park.

* * *

Both of them treated their life like a canvas, one already painted with a great image that they had to try and cover. Both put themselves under intense pressure, competing in their lives when there was no ultimate prize to gain.

For her, it was all about becoming the best meister she could be. Her mama had left behind a golden image when she'd gone to 'travel the world', imposing the idea of greatness on a ten-year-old Maka. Her papa was a waste of space; a useless mess who hadn't been able to keep his whore hands off of other women. Yes, her papa was a screw-up who didn't deserve to be given a part in her life. Her _mama_ however – well, she could do no wrong. She was immortal, perfect, and everything Maka should aspire to be like. Therefore, it had become the young pigtailed meister's ambition to create a better, more powerful Death Scythe than her useless papa, to make her mama proud and to show that she was every ounce a worthy daughter.

Of course, on the first day of meister-weapon introductions, she'd basically jumped up and down in excitement.

_She was finally going to meet her weapon partner, get ready to train up and become the most powerful meister Shibusen had ever seen! But she had to do it now, she couldn't waste time! She needed to find the weapon partner she'd been searching for and then start collecting souls. _

_However, there was just one problem – she didn't know any weapons. The only person she knew was Black*Star, her obnoxious childhood friend with an ego bigger than his ostentatious hairstyle. She wasn't too shy to introduce herself to people, but she didn't want to waste time with weapons who weren't going to be any help at all. She just had to stay optimistic, she told herself. She'd find somebody, and that girl would be the best partner ever!_

_Obviously she wasn't going to partner up with a _male_. Her father had taught her that all men were lying, cheating bastards who weren't worth the time of day. _

_By the middle of the day, her optimism and exuberance were starting to dim. She'd met a fair few weapons already, but they just weren't what she was looking for. She wanted to be a scythe-meister, like her mama was, and so far she hadn't met a single scythe! There were plenty of weapons here, right? Surely there had to be at least _one!_ But if there was, Maka was yet to find her. Even Black*Star had found a partner, that idiot! He'd met a Dark Arm, a quiet yet beautiful older girl by the name of Tsubaki Nakatsukasa. She was timid, but Maka liked her. She wished _she _could find a partner like that! There were quite a few . . . interesting characters attending Shibusen this year. A boy called Ox, with a funny hairstyle like lightning bolts protruding from either side of his otherwise bald head. Maka knew she would have to compete academically with this rather snotty individual, as she'd overheard him boasting of his high academic record. He had a partner too, a stony-faced guy by the name of Harvar. They were friends with Kilik, an Earth Shaman meister with an interesting choice of partners, twin children barely out of infancy. Maka was feeling rather wilted due to these newfound acquaintances' ability to find a partner. How come they could and she couldn't? Was she not good enough? Would she not be as good as her mother after all?_

_She made some lame excuse to Black*Star and the newly befriended Tsubaki – who Maka could just tell was shaping up to be best-friend material despite the age gap – and departed from their current spot in the courtyard. She would look through the entire school until she found the right partner, damnit! She was Maka Albarn, daughter of Kami, so she must keep trying._

_So that was how she ended up outside the door of that music room._

And Maka had done what she had planned to, it was undoubtable. Soul Eater was now a Death Scythe, and on the way to becoming the most powerful one ever. He was already so gifted, with his demonic keyboard and his ability to fly harnessing her Grigori soul. She had truly become a great meister.

Maybe even as good as her mama.

So why was that not what she focussed on anymore? Why was it not her constant drive to overtake her mother? When had it changed?

She knew exactly when her priorities had changed. It had been right at the moment when Soul had thrown himself in front of her, protecting her with his body, getting sliced open completely by Crona's sword. He'd shown her that not all men were the same, because he'd never left her – not counting the ruse he'd shown to trick Blair – and at that moment he'd risked his life just for her. At that moment, when the first drops of his blood hit her cheek, everything had changed. She no longer wanted to get stronger to overshadow her papa and live up to her mama's reputation. She wanted to get stronger for him. So that this could never happen again.

Because if she lost Soul, she lost everything. That was how Maka Albarn, bit by bit, painted over the canvas of her mother with the white of his hair and started her own life.

His life had always been like this. From day one, it had been some sort of competition, where only one of them could be the wanted son. And from day fucking one, he was losing. Soul Evans – as he was known in his years before Shibusen – was many things. He was cynical, sarcastic and a piano player. But there was one thing he was not, and that was _good_. At everything he did, he was acceptable. He was cool, even. But he was not good, not when Wes was around.

As much as he loved his elder brother, there was always that green monster in the room with him, chewing at his thoughts and turning his ripe affection into a diseased, rotting apple. Wes was . . . perfection. The most beautiful violinist. His pieces were exquisite, a true pleasure to the ear. Soul could not count the amount of times he heard somebody in the house staff or at a concert, raving about Wes' skill and promise.

Of course, being from a musical dynasty like the Evans family, Soul was expected to be a prodigy as well. And a prodigy he was. His playing of classical pieces was down to the mint, absolutely perfect. He could play anything given to him, if he practiced – which he didn't, not enough. Practicing wasn't cool, and if something wasn't cool, Soul wouldn't deal with it.

It wasn't his playing of pre-written pieces that caused all the trouble in his life. It was his own compositions. He wrote the music of his soul, not understanding anything at the time but the notes that seemed to flow from inside of him. He wrote them down, he let them escape through his fingers onto the ivory keys, and he was quite proud of them. That was, until someone else heard them. His father's reaction was a downturn of the mouth, a crinkle of the eyebrows and a '_Never play me that abhorrence again, Soul Evans. Do you hear me?'_

His mother's reaction, however, was much worse. She sat, her face completely twisted in horror, her hand over her heart. She made a noise low in her throat of utter revulsion, as if he were some kind of _fuckin' headless chicken_, and crossed the chequered floor in a matter of moments. The hand raking across a seven year old Soul's cheek was more painful than the millions of injuries he'd received while playing in the rose bushes. Even breaking his arm was nothing compared to that slap.

From then on, he'd never played his own pieces in front of his family again. Of course, there had been one person who'd enjoyed his works. Wes had told him that they were second to nothing, the best thing he'd ever heard. Of course, perfect Wes was the perfect elder brother.

From that day onwards, a mantra had been enforced into Soul's life by his parents. _Be more like Wes. Be more like Wes._

He tried for a little while, just for the fun of it. He tried to be normal, ignore the dark music brimming out of the cracks in his soul. It was so hard. There was pressure on him from every side. His parents watched him like hawks, ensuring that none of his _personality_ dared to show. They didn't want him to be himself, because that wouldn't impress the other members of the fucking country club that was the Evans lifestyle. He couldn't put a toe out of line, or he'd just receive those looks from everyone, those shakes of the head that showed disappointment or repulsion or disgust. And as much as he couldn't stand that, it wasn't the worst thing. The absolute worst thing was the way Wes would treat him. Wes was so caring, making sure Soul knew _somebody_ appreciated him. Because Wes was perfect like that. And Soul couldn't take perfect.

He'd wanted to run away. He tried once. It didn't work, as he was caught by Wes as soon as he went out to the rose bushes. Soul just couldn't escape this nightmare, this everlasting shadow that he'd become on his brother's skill.

Finding out he was a weapon was shocking, but the best thing for him. It had been hard for his mind to comprehend – _something I can do that perfect Wes can't?_

It was his Get-Out-Of-Jail-Free card, and he'd played it as soon as he had the chance. His parents had acted concerned, because that's what loving parents were meant to do, and the Evans' had to keep up that perfect reputation. They'd allowed him to leave for Shibusen however, telling him to do their name proud. _Yeah, right. Like he'd be fuckin' doing that. _The only thing he regretted leaving behind was, inevitably, Wes. Because his older brother was so perfect that Soul couldn't comprehend the life without him. He had left, without looking back, knowing that he was going towards something where he might just succeed.

And that's how he'd been led to Maka.

Certainly not what he was expecting to find, in the form of success: flat as the spines of the books she was _oh so fond_ of impaling in his skull. A wearer of pigtails – what was she, five? And a complete bookworm, hard-ass, boring, strict, male-hating beast if ever he met one. She screamed violence and attacked him for small things he wasn't even aware of.

He loved every minute of it.

Maybe he was just a sick masochist, progressing along as he was in their relationship, but he became addicted to her Maka Chops and her biting words, and her _short skirts_ and every single thing about her. He didn't let his borderline stalker behaviour affect her though, because for one thing, she'd get bigheaded, and for another, it wasn't cool to go professing undying love. He wasn't some B Grade shitty film.

But somewhere along the way, mixed in with her bad attitude and over-achiever nature, there was something in her soul that started to add little white dots to his canvas. They started out small, but gradually, they began to blot out the portrait of Wes. The blank whiteness became hair. Some dots were crimson, like his eyes. She created a portrait of him. Nobody else for him to live up to. Just himself, from his shark-like teeth to his albino hair and eyes to his oddly tanned skin.

They created a new canvas for each other.

One day, they would create one _with_ each other, no space between them, as one. Like they should be.

They just weren't ready to paint the picture yet. But the canvas was there, all the same, and every day, they added a little colour. Just for each other, and nobody else. Just for them.

* * *

**Metaphors for the win. **

**There we are, SoMa lovers. Represent. See you in the next one-shot. By the way, there's one word I use in every single story. Can you spot it? It's an odd word. It'll be easier to tell with more chapters. **


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: **__I don't own Soul Eater or the song 'Toxic' by A Static Lullaby. I know it's by Brittney Spears, but this is a cover which suits the style of the anime and manga better._

_Thanks to_: LiKaTaSa, kurosakidetsuya, TheLightBeforeWeLand, HikariJazz, GoddessGirl07, Denranoth, Blaire-Faust and StealthNeko for reviewing/adding to your favourites list/adding to your follows list. Nice to know you're enjoying this (well, I assume).

* * *

** THREE – SLIPPING UNDER**

_A guy like you should wear warning.  
It's dangerous. I'm falling.  
- "Toxic"_, A Static Lullaby (Cover of Brittney Spears)

* * *

_Really_, she reasoned, _it was entirely his fault._ He'd done . . . something, she didn't know what, but it was bad. Whatever he'd done had trapped her, and now she was completely and utterly _screwed._

Because for whatever reason, fate had stuck its foot out and tripped her, and now she was falling. Down, down, down the rabbit-hole, clawing for some kind of life-saving ledge that just wasn't there. She hadn't hit the ground yet, but she knew that it was inevitable. As soon as she landed, everything would break and fall apart. She just had to try and survive the impact.

She looked over the top of her book at him once again, feeling irrational anger bubble up in her throat. Of course it was all Soul's fault. When wasn't it? He was just sitting there, on the other side of the couch, watching the television. Some night-time basketball game was on, and every once in a while he'd just yell spontaneously at the players on screen, because apparently in his mind they could hear him from where he sat. She'd chopped him for it twice already, but he'd just shook off the potential-coma and gone back to the game. All Maka could do was sit there and watch her weapon partner get absorbed in the TV. Because she couldn't take her eyes off of him. And it was his Death-damn fault.

Recently, she'd started to notice a few subtle changes in him. Like how he'd gotten taller since she turned him into a Death Scythe nearly a year ago. How his jaw had squared slightly, he'd filled out nicely, and over-all how he'd _grown up_. When had that happened? It couldn't have been overnight, but Maka didn't know how she'd _not_ noticed until then. She lived with him, for Death's sake. She'd also begun to notice changes in herself. She stood closer to him now. She was more social now, due to his influence. And instead of looking at him and seeing only _loyal idiot_, she saw lips that looked fantastic in shape and texture, a smile that could easily flip her stomach, eyes that burned her insides and a guy who she just _could not stop staring at_. This meant she couldn't read her books anymore - because every protagonist took on some weird Soul-like quality now - so it was starting to make her mad.

The first stage of denial had been the convincement of her sudden perv-like nature being related to hormones. Yes, she was sixteen now. Even for bookish Maka Albarn, the normalcy of teenage . . . attraction had to kick in sometime. It was only natural that she started to view the world this way, right?

Wrong. Because she still saw Black*Star as a companionable idiot, and Kid as a symmetrical mix of Shinigami and childish tantrums. Sure, she thought of Black*Star with affection, but he was like her bratty sibling. She'd grown up with him, right? And Kid she honoured, but that was also a different kind of feeling. He was going to be the ruler of all of them one day. She was just in regard to her leader as a rightful Shinigami. But Soul . . . her affection for him was not one of a leader, and it was _definitely _not one of a brother. It was more of a what-does-your-mouth-taste-like kind of deal.

The second stage of denial had been the whole 'He's My Partner' theory. She _had_ to hold him high in her affections, right? She lived with him. She risked her life and his on a daily basis, and she fought beside him constantly. Their soul wavelengths were in synchronisation. It was probably natural to have this sort of sentiment for somebody she was so bonded with.

Again, the buzzer went off for a wrong answer. After all, Kid was partnered with the Thompson sisters, wasn't he? And nobody saw him gaping at them 24/7 – unless Patti was disrupting the symmetry of the room again. Ox Ford and Harvar had been partnered just as long as Maka and Soul had, and those two _definitely _didn't have that kind of affection for each other. Ox was in a continuous drool-puddle caused by the witch meister Kim Diehl, and Soul had confided in Maka that he'd caught Harvar looking at Jackie out of his concealing sunglasses on more than one occasion in Weapons training. Kilik certainly didn't feel the whole butterflies-in-stomach thing for the elemental twins either, because that would be plain _wrong_. Then there was Tsubaki and Black*Star. They were possibly the one side she _could_ ally herself with, because although there was "nothing going on" between them, Black*Star had been attacked with flying shuriken for perving on his partner many times, and sometimes Maka could swear she saw Tsubaki just _sighing _in the assassin's general direction. But if they had feelings for each other (and Black*Star having feelings just sounded totally ludicrous, unless they were ones of pride and vanity), then they were sure doing a bang-up job of keeping quiet about it.

So what about her? Was Maka cracking up? Or was she really . . . falling for her irritating, lazy, sarcastic, cynical, attractive, loyal partner? _Oh Death,_ she thought. _Did I really just think the word 'attractive' for that idiot?_ And so she came to the conclusion that this was entirely his fault.

"Maka," Soul said, breaking her out of her bitter and confused reverie, "why're you trying to snap the spine of your book?"

"Huh?" Maka asked, looking down. Sure enough, she had her poor copy of _Pride and Prejudice _in a death grip. "I'm not . . . just shut up and watch your stupid game, idiot."

"_Excuse me?_ Who set off your alarm clock too early this morning, Tiny-Tits?"

"Makaaaaa – CHOP!"

She cringed as Soul fell face-first into the coffee table. She really shouldn't be taking out her anger about her newfound issue with him. Then again, it was his doing, so she shouldn't feel too bad. He sat back up after a few seconds of inability to move, rubbing his head and scowling something foul.

"What the fuck?" he said in an indignant voice. "That wasn't deserved and you know it. What's your problem today? You've been shitty since Stein's class this morning."

"It's none of your business," Maka answered sharply, and was rewarded with the narrowing of his eyes. "Why do you care?"

His expression was one of outraged confusion. "Why do I care? I don't know, maybe because I'm your freakin' _partner_?! And because you're hitting me for no good reason?"

"Yeah, well, maybe I don't want to talk about this with you."

"And maybe I don't want to get Chopped. It doesn't matter, because it's gonna happen whether you like it or not. Your wavelength's really sour and keeps shutting me out." Realisation dawned on his face. "You're keeping something from me, aren't you?"

She hesitated for a moment too long before she answered, "No."

"Liar."

"I'm not lying! Idiot!"

"There's another lie right there. And quit with the 'idiot' thing, will you? You know that you don't keep shit from me, Maka. It's "bad for our partnership bonding", remember?" He mimicked her most lecturing voice, quoting her own words sourly.

"Why, because you need to know every little detail about my life?"

"Uh, _yeah_, because otherwise I can't resonate with you, idiot!"

_"Now _who's starting with the 'idiot'?"

They were both standing now, staring each other down. There was some part of Maka that was just aching to Chop him again and wipe that expression off of his face. And then there was that new part of her, the part she didn't want, that was telling her to wipe that expression away in _another _way. His eyes were bright and full of emotion, and his mouth was twisted to show those sharp teeth to her. Those teeth that had appeared more than once in her dreams, she could tell you. The sensation radiating through her, starting at her gut and spreading through her, just made her all the more angry. Who the hell did he think he was, making her all weak in the knees like this? It wasn't fair. It was mean. She just wanted to grab his hair and slam her mouth against his, and she hated it.

"Just shut the _fuck _up, Soul!" she yelled suddenly, letting all of that rage out in a single sentence.

The effect was visible. Soul literally stepped back from her in shock. Maka Albarn _never_ swore, not with the 'big' words. Not unless she was fighting some particularly nasty pre-Kishin or Soul was really ticking her off, and even then it was usually just a 'piss off' or the rare 'shit.' She'd just dropped the F-word so easily, so angrily, and at that moment she could tell her ruse was up. He knew there was something wrong with her, something bad. But he was also hurt, because not only was she refusing to tell him about it, but she was taking it out on him. In one swift moment, she pushed past his emotion-filled eyes and his strong chest and his sharp teeth and everything that was becoming a problem in her life. She grabbed her jacket and her wallet off of the kitchen bench, storming out of the apartment door in a rush.

For half a moment, she thought Soul was going to follow her. For half of _that _moment, she actually hoped he would, so she could live out her romance-novel fantasies. He'd grab her arm, turn her around and demand to know the truth, and she'd just look up at him, and he'd lean down until she could feel his breath on her lips . . .

But he didn't come, and Maka convinced herself that she was _glad_, damnit.

_Maybe everyone's right, maybe I _do_ read too many books. _

She stormed out of their complex and hit the street hard, letting her anger flow through her hard and heavy steps. She didn't know where she was heading, but it was away from that stupid moron and all of her attraction. All of the problems that she didn't want to admit were maybe _her_ fault.

* * *

By this time, Maka had lost track of how long she'd been out on the streets of Death City. After stomping out all of her anger and venting through the consumption of ice cream from Death Robbins, she'd just started to aimlessly wander around. She should have brought her phone so that she could call Tsubaki or Liz, but she hadn't wanted Soul to be able to talk to her. She'd needed to distance herself from him until that urge to just throw herself at him had subsided.

_This is becoming a real problem_, Maka thought as she trudged around near Hook Cemetery. She was straying far away from the road towards Stein's laboratory, because although Marie was there now, she didn't want to be too near that creepy-ass place at night. The cemetery didn't scare her – death was coming for all of them, was it not? She respected the people lying in the ground here, because most of them were meisters and weapons who had done their job for Shibusen and the world. Sitting down on a bench with a sigh, Maka thought about what she had said to her partner.

She nearly cringed when she recollected swearing at him. It was completely out of line. That look on his face had been bad, too. He'd been hurt by her. This feeling she kept getting regarding him was seriously bad. If it kept up, she might ruin their partnership. How was Maka meant to resonate with Soul, let him feel her wavelength and the depths of her soul, almost read her mind, if everything was just filled with thoughts and images of him? He'd find out for sure, and then their partnership would be over. He'd accept one of the millions of letters he received on a daily basis, offering a new meister.

Because he couldn't want her. Not the flat-chested, aggressive bookworm. There was no way. She knew he felt all of those things about her, because he just _had_ to remind her on a daily basis. Maka didn't think she was vain, but at sixteen, being called out for her breast size was not exactly a pleasant thing. Everything about her was too straight-laced, too boring, for Soul. She wasn't bodacious like Blair. She didn't understand and know music like Liz. She was nothing, just like a sister to her partner. And as much as she didn't want to admit it, that hurt.

There was only one option left – she'd have to get over it. As nice as it would be – and oh, it would be more than _nice_ – if Soul actually reciprocated these feelings she had towards him, it was a long shot that would never happen. So she should just let it go. She was Maka Albarn. She could and would let it go, even if it killed her.

_See,_ she thought, _now, my life was anything like a romance novel, Soul would come right about now and say he'd been looking for me all night. He'd say he was sorry and wrap his arms around me. But this is _Soul_ we're talking about. He's probably still yelling at the basketball game. He thinks romance is uncool, and he isn't about to waste his night looking for me. The books are worse liars than Papa!_

That decided it. She was being stupid, sitting here and imagining that he was just going to appear magically out of nowhere and sweep her off her feet. Maka stood, ready to go back. She wasn't absolutely sure yet whether she should apologize or what, because although she had been the wrong one, he had been a bit of an asshole. She would cross that bridge when she came to it, apparently.

On passing the great clock tower during her trek back home, Maka happened to catch a glimpse of the time. _Now that can't be right_. The small hand was way too far past what it should be . . . It was on the _right _side of 12. Surely she hadn't been out here that long? It was past midnight! She shivered slightly, glad she'd thought to bring her coat with her on her angry rampage.

If her partner were anyone other than Soul, she'd be in serious trouble right now. She mused over the possibility of him still searching for her, and chuckled. He was many things, but overly affectionate was not one of them. He'd trust her enough to walk around Death City at night. After all, she'd lived here longer than him; she'd know the roads better than he would, if he didn't constantly terrorize the streets on that orange monstrosity he called his motorbike – or his 'baby', depending on the conversation – when he needed to think. He was seventeen now, and he still had that ostentatious* bike.

Her feet brought her to the front of the apartment complex quickly, and to her door even swifter. She was tired now, her steps dragging slightly, and she just wanted to sleep off her affections and her partner and everything. She unlocked the door –

And was met with the painful smack in the face of being right. Soul was not sitting impatiently waiting for her. Neither was he waiting on the couch. At least he wasn't watching any basketball still. There was also no dinner laid out for her as a welcome home. He hadn't even _cooked_ for her. Maka sighed, dropping her wallet back onto the bench and throwing her coat on the ground in a sheer lack of energy. She tumbled over onto the couch and promptly fell asleep, convincing herself there were no tears in her eyes. Because there wasn't, she was over it, she was lying.

She was woken up a moment later by the sound of the door closing. Sleepily, she raised her head to check whether Blair had just got home, or she was being robbed. In her tired state, she didn't really care if it was the latter. Maybe the thieves could take Soul and end all her problems. Or they could take her – out of her or him, she was pretty sure her friends would miss her less. Her vision finally focussed and she stiffened; it wasn't Blair. Maybe there really were robbers in her house. But robbers didn't usually have white hair or red eyes. Her heart did this weird constriction thing in her chest as Soul rubbed his eyes tiredly, hanging his jacket on the coat rack. After a moment, he also placed her discarded coat there too, making sure it wasn't too dirty from its abandonment on the floor. He didn't check her room to see if she was back, instead heading directly to his. Maka heard Soul kicking his shoes off, and he came back out of his room, shutting the door softly. He came over to the couch where she was lying and sat down beside her wearily, leaning back in his usual 'cool' posture nonetheless.

"What do you want?" she grunted. It sounded like some sort of horrible collision of consonants.

"For you to move your feet," he said, surprising her with his ability to understand her garbled speech. Sheerly out of exhaustion she obeyed, lifting her still booted feet until he sat down. Maybe sleepiness gave her audacity, because she placed her feet back in his lap a moment later.

He didn't push them off, instead removing her boots with his deft, thin fingers. He placed them on the ground beside the couch and turned to regard her. "I can't believe you didn't get me any ice cream."

"Huh?" How did he know she got ice cream . . . ?

"Were you . . . following me?"

"Yep. Black*Star can preach all he wants about stealth, but he's got nothin' on me."

Maka's cheeks warmed. That whole time, he'd been right there? How had she not seen him? Why had he bothered traipsing around after her all night after she'd yelled at him?

"Did you really think I was gonna let you wander around all night without me there?" he asked in a sceptical manner, able to read her thoughts on her face. "Don't be stupid. I just didn't show myself because you would've pounded me again. And as to how I avoided your notice, well, you aren't that observant when you're pissed."

Maka growled and kicked him, shaking off the last traces of her fatigue. Her stomach was twisting. Here she had been, thinking he was a careless moron, and he'd actually been fulfilling every fantasy of affection that she could muster up, just in a more subtle way. Sometimes she really did underestimate him, devalue him. He was her weapon partner, after all. It wasn't like he 'didn't give two shits' about her, as he would say.

"Soul," she began. She had to make amends for her behaviour now. She just hoped he wouldn't make her explain herself.

"It's okay, I'm not mad anymore," he said, reading her face yet again. "Just worried. Are you sure you won't tell me what's wrong?"

Looking at his face, she instantly thought of her novel. _Pride and Prejudice _still sat beside them on the table. And here was her very own rude, haughty, caring Mr. Darcy. He had the attitude down to the mint, undoubtedly. Maybe just less hostile. And something about this comparison just made the romantic inside her break. She had to tell him. She had to get rid of this horrible silenced feeling one way or another. For a moment, she just revelled in the feeling of their partnership, his trust and affection. And then she opened her mouth, ready to break it. "I . . . I'm screwing up our partnership."

His face was blank, surprised by her admission, let alone the contents of it. He must've believed she wasn't going to confess anything. "What?"

Her face flamed and she was already filled with dread. Why did she have to admit? Why couldn't she just keep quiet when he'd expected that?

Because she owed him this. He'd done enough for her. She knew it. "I said, I'm screwing up our partnership. I'm . . . ruining it."

"And how exactly are you doing that?" he asked in perplexed concern. "This isn't about what happened in the Book of Eibon again, is it? Because I thought you were over that, whatever it was." She shook her head to say _no, not that. _She still hadn't confessed what she'd seen, and neither had he. They'd drawn an invisible veil over the events of the Book of Eibon's third chapter. "Then what?"

This was the moment. She had to say it now. There was no avoiding it. But her mouth didn't open at the right moment. Surprisingly, his did.

"If anything, it's _me_ screwing up our partnership, not you."

Now it was her turn to be perplexed. "What?"

He grimaced. "You heard me. I don't know what it is, Maka, but something's _changed_."

Her heart skidded and stopped.

He was looking away from her now. "It's been seriously uncool, whatever it is, but I'm not going to hide it from you. It isn't cool for me to say you can't keep stuff from me, and then for me to do just that in return. I . . . think I might be in love with you. I don't know."

No, her heart hadn't stopped before, because _now_ it had. She gaped. Her mouth was open, and she was just staring, because her life was turning into freakin' _Emma_, and here was Mr. Knightley completely changing everything she'd ever known about him by saying he reciprocated her feelings. She could see him blushing, and the tightness of his jaw, as he continued to look with his face turned away.

"You . . . what?"

"You heard me," he said rather gruffly. "I can't do anything about it. I tried to get rid of it at first, 'coz I didn't want it to fuck up our friendship, but it wouldn't budge. I just . . . started to think things. Uncool things. And then I got really pissy whenever someone else spoke to you, even other _girls_. And I tried to figure out what the problem was, but I couldn't think of anything else."

_Hold up, what. What. Has he turned into me? He's saying everything in my head. This is creepy. It's not real. I'm still dreaming. Oh my Death. What do I do?_

_Pride and Prejudice _had NOT prepared her for this.

"I don't expect you to have the same sort of - feelings, or whatever," Soul finished rather lamely. "You can switch partners if you want. I just didn't want to hide it from you and then have it all burst out during Resonance when we were fighting. Sorry."

He made to stand up then, discarding his cool completely on the couch. But Maka's legs locked him into place. Her brain was finally catching up, after never going this slow before. He loved her. He actually felt the same way she did about him. She . . . _Oh, _fuck_ the describing and drama_, she thought.

In one swift motion, she grabbed his tie as he was starting to turn back towards her. In the next, she was using it to yank him toward her because there was just _too much space_ in between them. Another movement brought his face to hers, and before either of them could process what she was doing, she pressed her mouth against his.

She'd never kissed anyone before, and in any other situation, she'd be worried about what she should do. But she wasn't, because it was Soul. Her hand loosened on his tie only to reach up to his shoulders. She felt his own hands land on her waist and wrap around it, pulling her in closer to him. They broke apart momentarily for air before he kissed her again fiercely. They'd both been holding out for too long on this, and now both wanted to make up for lost time.

Maka felt herself moan slightly against his mouth, and she flushed, but he groaned in return and poked her lips with his tongue. Instantly, she parted them, and then he was inside her own mouth. Her hands reached up once more, gripping his hair and smashing herself closer, as close as she could possibly get. She was not a boring bookworm anymore; she was Maka and he was Soul and he was still too far away. He was poisonous and toxic – her lungs were screaming for air, but she couldn't pull away. Because she was no longer falling. She'd hit the ground, but she hadn't hurt herself. Because there'd been someone there to land with her.

_Well_, she supposed distantly, _I certainly know how his mouth tastes now._

And that was the moment that Blair _did _arrive home, dropping her bag with an open-mouthed gape just as Soul and Maka broke apart in surprise from the sudden noise.

The words Soul said next were _not _what Mr. Darcy would have said. At all.

* * *

**There we go. Proper romance. Hope you enjoyed. Sorry if Soul is OOC, because I can't see him being romantic about anything other than his bike. **

**I'm such a Jane Austen fangirl, it's embarrassing. **

***- Ostentatious is the word I keep using, although I keep saying ****_cynical _****as well. **

**In the previous chapter I used the anime idea of Maka hearing Soul play for the first time to understand who he is in the music room. This was because I wrote this before I read Chapter 111, so I didn't see the chapter beginning. Cool. **

**Bye and stuff. **


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: **__I don't own Soul Eater or "Without the Bitter the Sweet Isn't As Sweet", by Mayday Parade. You'll probably see a fair few Mayday Parade songs coming up in here, because they're my favourite band._

_Plus, remember, these one-shots are unrelated, meaning that the events in each of them don't relate to one another, meaning that for the purpose of this one-shot, Soul and Maka did not eat face a chapter ago. Cool._

_This is a fairly short one-shot, but seeing as my last one was fairly long (as far as O-S's go [I'm so tired of typing one-shot already]), it kinda makes up for it, I hope._

Thanks to: Flamefoot, IMurderMuffins, SpawnOfCthulhu, vivalarapture, and wolf princess Julie for adding this to their favourites and follows lists, as well as the people in the previous chapter.

Aaaaaaand story.

* * *

**FOUR – AND THAT'S THE TRUTH**

_And maybe it will all work out like in the movies,  
But I know Romeo must die before the ending,  
With a final poisoned kiss delivered gently,  
Because you don't get lucky twice  
And that's the truth.  
- "Without the Bitter, the Sweet Isn't As Sweet",_ Mayday Parade

* * *

"I'm so sorry."

He hated hearing those words from her, especially in a situation like this. She just couldn't understand that none of this was her fault. Maybe it was a meister thing, he didn't know, but they just didn't understand a weapon's need to protect their technician. At any cost, even if death was the price.

That was why he hated lying in that bed, feeling the blood soak through yet _another_ gauze bandage, and hearing her cry quietly. He could hear her, and he could feel the pain of the wounds – although that didn't really faze him; he'd been gutted like a fish by Crona. This was an inconsequential wound compared to that. It didn't even really hurt. And yet here she was, crying again, and he couldn't do anything.

He couldn't even move. His chest was still thankfully processing dull, half-taken breaths, but other than that he was completely still. Soul was on his stomach, due to the nature of his injuries, and he couldn't even find the physical strength to open his eyes. He wanted to, so he could comfort Maka and tell her that he was _fine_. But something about that witch's magic had just completely zapped him, worn him down and reduced him to this lifeless lump of human.

He remembered the moment the spell had hit. Maka had been wielding him effortlessly – of course, they were a freakin' lethal team* - in the battle against the Hawk Witch. She was a creepy-ass looking thing, with taloned fingernails and weird yellowish wings, as well as a very pointed nose that just looked like a funny beak. Most of the witches Spartoí encountered were of the ostentatiously alluring or normal feminine appearance, with the exclusion of the individual Mizune sisters. This witch was just plain nasty. And she had an irritating ability to fly, as well as shoot razor feathers out of her talons. These razor feathers had caused all of the problems. One good round of them had been shot at Maka, who deflected them easily. The witch wasn't overly powerful. But in using him to block those magic attacks, she'd allowed the feathers to come into contact with his scythe. The moment they'd touched the flat, red and black metal, or the golden adornments coming off of his eye, they'd sunk straight through and attacked him in his human form. He didn't know how the _fuck_ it had happened, but somehow his hard, metal form had been penetrated and he'd been treated as if he were still a normal human shape. Maka hadn't noticed, being pre-occupied with the fight, and he'd known that if he'd called attention to it, she'd stop using him to block. Soul could only remember how well that had happened the _last _two times: with Crona, where he'd promptly been cut straight open; and with Giriko in the Sloth Chapter of the Book of Eibon, where he'd had to fight by himself and get seriously fucked up in the process. So Soul had bitten his tongue with his sharp teeth to avoid crying out – because those little wavelength feathers hurt like a bitch – until Maka had successfully gained up on the witch.

A simple _one, two, spin, slice_ and he'd been lodged deep into the Hawk Witch's chest, raked upwards and freed as her form had shuddered and split into a black feather surrounding a purple soul. Maka had ensured the feather was destroyed before offering Soul the purple squishy mass. Seeing as he was already a Death Scythe, he didn't need to eat it, but Maka didn't really like handling souls, so she was planning on asking him to take it back to the Death Room. However, he hadn't merged out of his scythe or transformed. Maka had shaken him irritably, saying that he should just_ "take the stupid thing so I don't have to touch it, gloves or no gloves."_ He still hadn't moved. Finally, when Maka had shaken him, he'd morphed from one form into the other, still in her hands, causing both of them to fall to the ground.

She'd yelled at him for two seconds and then screamed for two more. Her eyes had caught the blood on his arms, his neck, but mostly his _back_ where he'd been ripped at, tore at and slashed with those demonic feather blades. Not only had they cut him up, but the magic inside of them had rendered him immobile, completely unable to respond to Maka's now desperate shaking of his shoulder. She clearly needed a sign that he was not dead, and he couldn't give one.

So he'd gathered every ounce of strength he could find in his prone body and opened his eyes in a burst of pain. Maka had gasped in relief, only to remain in fear when she noted the way his facial expression didn't change whatsoever. It was like he was dead but staring at her at the same time. _Death, it must have looked creepy_. After he'd decided this was worse, before he could lose his strength in a blink, he'd coughed out a weak, _"Can't move." _

Maka's face had screwed up in memory of the time Arachne had rendered her immobile, and her hands had worried over his chest and his heavily bleeding back as she'd tried to think of something to do. Although it hadn't helped, Soul couldn't deny the fact that he'd liked the feel of her hands gently stroking him. _But Maka doesn't need to know that. Because then Black*Star will know that. And that shit ain't happenin'._

"Can you transform?" she'd asked in a shaking voice. Maka was notorious with him for her spontaneous breakdowns. Normally this wasn't a problem, because he could talk her out of any depression. But this time he couldn't, and because of that she was worse than ever. He'd succeeded in transforming due to gentle nudges on his soul from her. "I'm going to carry you back to Shibusen, and we'll call Stein to look at you, okay?"

So that was how he'd ended up back here, completely paralysed with his back looking like a kid's spaghetti plate, with guilt being squeezed from every pore as Maka cried.

She didn't even know he was conscious, most likely. His eyes had slipped closed again a little while before the successful transformation, and he still couldn't freakin' open them. He just lay there, waiting for something to change, because otherwise he was going to lose his shit. He liked to be in motion, despite his lazy behaviour, because it gave him a sense of control. This immobility was frustrating as hell – he wondered how Maka had withstood it after her attack from Arachne.

"Soul." Maka's quiet voice cut through the silence. "Can you hear me? If you can, just move or something."

He was tempted to try, but by the sounds of things she was going to start talking if he didn't say anything, and if she talked at least he'd have _something _to think about instead of this ridiculous silenced paralysis.

"You're just going to lie there like a lump of metal and flesh, aren't you?" she asked wearily, a slight hiccup in her voice, finally sniffling off the last of her blasted tears.

_Excuse me, Tiny-Tits? _Soul thought indignantly. _I can't freakin' move. I think that's a _little _different to being a lump. Besides, it's not like I chose to – _

"Could you please just wake up soon?"

_POW_. It was like she just reached inside him and punched him right in the guilt. Soul would have grit his teeth if he was able to do that – or do anything, for that matter. She needed him to calm her down, and he was just lying there like – _well, like a lump of fucking metal and flesh, pretty well._

How many times would they go through this cycle? One of them was always going to be in the hospital bed, and the other was always going to be sitting right there in the seat feeling like the worst person in the world. They just couldn't seem to break the habit.

"How long are we going to keep doing this?" Maka said quietly, almost mirroring his thoughts. "Are we just going to take it in turns getting hurt?"

_I don't know,_ Soul answered mentally.

"I know you don't want me to say that it was my fault you got hurt, but that doesn't make me feel any less guilty. I bet you feel this bad when I'm hurt, hey?"

_Nope. Worse. Because your job is just to wield me, make me stronger and stuff. My job is to _protect you_, Maka. So whenever I get hurt like this, it's because I've done my job well._

"I know it's your job, if that's what you're thinking deep down inside right now. If you were my weapon, then I would understand," Maka said in a low voice.

_What the shit? I _am_ your weapon, idiot._

"But you're not _just _my weapon. You're my friend. You're my family. You're my _partner_, Soul," she uttered, her voice cracking a few times. There was so much meaning in the way she said that one word . . . "So just wake up."

Soul cringed inwardly at the tone of her voice, the sadness in it. They were too close for comfort in their partnership. He wouldn't admit to it because of his 'cool' attitude, but he depended on her a little too much for his liking. His feelings had stemmed from duty of partnership, but they'd grown so powerfully. He didn't protect her because he had to now. He protected her because he couldn't stand the idea of one day _not_ being there. Either he died, or she got a new partner. That was how it was going to go. She could discard him if she wanted, and he wouldn't stop her. Sure, he'd fight like hell, but if she needed to get rid of him, he would go. To save her, he would.

Soul accepted many things when he first enrolled in Shibusen. One was that he'd be risking his life, and another was that he would give his life for another if required. He knew and accepted his duties as well, to Maka and to Death City. So that was why he found it so easy, lying in that stupidly starchy bed, to once again _accept_ something, as he'd been taught to do.

He was a loving, pining Romeo, but Maka would not be Juliet. Because Juliet did not survive, and it was all Romeo's fault. He would get rid of himself before that situation could ever occur. Even if he didn't know that she was willing to play the part.

Romeo could die, whatever. But his partner would live on, and _kick ass_.

_So fuck you, Shakespeare. _He'd never really paid attention in English class, anyway.

* * *

***- This is a reference to the anime. Look at the back of the DVD jacket. Ha.**

**Sorry, this was short and sucky. But oh well, life goes on. **


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: **__I do not own Soul Eater or the song 'Breathe' by The Never Ever. Australian bands represent!  
__**WARNING**__: Major __**SPOILERS **__for the __**ENTIRE MANGA. **__The whole thing. So yeah. _

Bre Renee, GypsyTaft, magpiefeather, waytheballbounces, RaiHebi, _thanks for reviewing/adding to your favourites list/adding to your follows list. Your reviews were really nice and gave me a view on how the story's going, so cheers! _

_Yeah, so go._

* * *

** FIVE – CAN'T TAKE MY EYES OFF OF YOU**

_Shut your eyes and just reach out to me.  
- "Breathe",_ The Never Ever.

* * *

The new students of Shibusen looked up at the three imposing figures before them.

First of all, there was the creepy stitched up man. He went by the name 'Stein', and was a professor, as well as a top-class meister. This man was to be the students' teacher for their Soul Theory, but he was also the science professor. Stein looked at all of the freshmen with a slight leer, his manic grin matching the malignant shine of his glasses. He was no doubt deciding which child he should dissect first.

Then there was the woman with the honey-blonde hair. She was not scary like Professor Stein, and was actually smiling encouragingly at all of the kids in front of her. However, she was a Death Scythe, and that instantly made her slightly intimidating. That much raw power was hard for the younger meisters and weapons to contemplate. Despite just returning from long-absence leave (to have a child, according to rumour), she looked just as strong and powerful as ever. She also had a reputation, this Marie Mjólnir. She was the Crusher, a very strong and destructive weapon who could destroy anything in her path if she was angry. There was a broken toilet in the East Wing Ladies Room that was reportedly reduced to crumbled porcelain via her doing, after an incident of . . . romance? The students didn't really know, but frankly they were scared to find out.

Finally, there was the third figure. A girl, appearing to be a few years older than most of the attendants of the class. Seventeen, maybe? She wasn't tall, and she wasn't muscled. In fact, for the large part, this girl seemed very usual, very non-threatening. If one added the style of her hair – pigtails, high on either side of her head like a child's – and her outfit, which was a uniform of some sort, labelled as one for a group called 'Spartoi', she seemed almost cute. There were two things that influenced her aura, and caused her to be far from cute. In fact, she was the most intimidating person there due to these two factors.

Number one was definitely the rumour-truths relating to what had happened on the moon last year. This girl was half of the weapon-meister team that had managed to suppress Asura, the Kishin. Her and her weapon, Soul 'Eater' Evans* (a scary name, the first-years thought), had delivered the crucial blows, as well as the current Shinigami-sama (the original Shinigami's fragment son,'Kid') and an assassin meister by the name of Black*Star. It was due to her partner's blood - which was black, so the legends said - and the girl's wavelength that the moon had been engulfed in inky blackness, sealing Asura away. Unlike Maka, both Shinigami-sama and the blue-haired ninja and his girlfriend partner Tsubaki were already well known to the newcomers, due to Black*Star's ostentatious, loud-mouthed nature and the headmaster-God's introduction at the new students' induction. Maka was an unknown element, a prodigy among meisters just as much as her weapon was to others due to the fact that he'd become the 'Last Death Scythe.'

The aforementioned weapon created part two of Maka's intimidating qualities. The large scythe was currently propped up over Maka's shoulder. It was constructed of a long shaft, leading up to a wickedly curved sickle blade with a few adorned red 'teeth'. There was also an eye at the blade end of the metal shaft, shining a bright ruby red. The eye was trained seemingly into the middle of nowhere, staring blankly and leaving the younger meisters and weapons to wonder whether it was actually able to be used for sight. Golden trimming spread from Soul 'Eater' Evans' red eye, along the top of the blade and out to the side. Overall, it was a beautiful weapon, but it was also _scary as hell. _That transformed, sharp object was actually a person. A lot of the untrained meisters were trying to decide what he would look like in human form. They'd heard rumours, of course, that he was white-haired. Also, his eyes were apparently just as vermillion and piercing as the one adorning his blade. There were whispers among the female members in the room of him being distinctly _hot_, according to the older girls, but they wanted to see him to be sure. Soul had remained in weapon form for the entire time he had been in the room, however, so their curiosity was not yet sated. The way his blade gleamed and shone light onto Maka's ashy blonde hair was enough to make a few less-courageous people shiver.

"So," Marie said jovially, "as you know, we've prepared a demonstration for you today with Maka and her scythe. It will show you exactly what we meant in the earlier speech about meister and weapon pairs. Who's excited?"

A few people looked around with a nervous laugh, and the more idiotic children actually raised a hand. They all paused, startled, when they heard a low chuckle, seemingly sounding although there was apparently nobody laughing.

_"'Maka and her scythe'? Jeez, I don't even get a_ name _anymore_._ Why do_ we_ always end up doing this, anyway?_"

The scythe meister, Maka, looked at the blade on her shoulder with irritation. "Don't interrupt," she said quietly. "I'll Chop you if you keep being an idiot."

The reflection on the sickle almost showed – was that a _person _on the blade? No, the students decided as the light shifted on it and the image disappeared, they must have been imagining it. _"Who put you in charge, Maka?"_

Stein clicked the screw in his head, making every single student besides the senior scythe and meister shudder. "Enough banter." He stepped forward, clearing his throat. "Students, this is Maka Albarn, scythe meister. She's a three-star meister, and an embodiment of everything you should wish to be during your time here."

Maka blushed, preening a little.

"Maka here achieves top grades in every class, and was the first person in her year level to create a Death Scythe; the only person in her class, as Soul is the 'Last Death Scythe.' Yes," he added as the students started to whisper, "the rumours are true."

"She accumulated ninety-nine pre-Kishin souls early on in her training. She also collected an added ninety-nine after a minor – complication after her first round," Marie said. One kid up the back let out a low whistle and some people in the front row started animatedly whispering once again. "Maka has fought many a dangerous foe and she even helped to suppress the Kishin on the moon last year."

The room was now abuzz with conversation. Stein cleared his throat again, waiting for everyone to quieten down. When they didn't, he pulled a scalpel from his coat pocket and stabbed the table. One synchronized gulp later, everyone was once again paying attention. Maka stepped forward, ready to start her part of the presentation.

"Being here at Shibusen as a student is one of the most rewarding things you can do," she began, her tone of voice betraying the rigorous rehearsals of her speech. "It's a dangerous life, and one full of bloodshed. It isn't for the faint of heart. However, if you're ready to commit and be the best you can be, then you will surely succeed. Ridding the world of evil and insanity shows you your true potential, and the friends you make here are wonderful. You'll learn so much, so make sure to pay close attention, okay?" She grinned, and the kids started to clap. Whether it was from admiration or fear, she didn't know.

One kid, with a retainer and glasses and the whole _Look-At-Me, I'm A Nerd! _thing going on for him, stuck his piggy little hand in the air before Marie or Maka could continue. Maka nodded politely at him, and he said in a high pitched voice, "What is it like to resonate souls?"

Others stared, riveted and equally excited. They'd heard of resonance, but it was a foreign concept seeing as they'd just picked out their partners. Some hadn't even done that yet.

"It's a close bond," Stein answered in his scientific drawl. "You literally surround yourself with the other person's soul, so as to understand them better and create a powerful link between you."

"Yes," Maka seconded. She looked down at her weapon almost fondly. "It's like there's only your two soul wavelengths, and you match each other perfectly. Everything surrounding you becomes halted during the connection of true resonance, and judging by your power, you will be able to almost read the mind of your partner."

"Would you mind giving a demonstration?" Marie asked, and Maka nodded. This was why she was here, after all.

The three-star meister faced the audience and closed her eyes, describing what she was doing the best she could. "So, first I concentrate on the soul of my partner as a meister."

_"As a weapon," _Soul echoed surprisingly,_ "you focus on trying to grasp the wavelength of your meister, letting yourself sense it and gauge the power of it." _

Maka smiled. She hadn't expected him to contribute. He was in a bad mood because he was missing his free period for this, so if he was going to help, she wouldn't question it. "Next, I try to put all of my power into my wavelength, making sure my weapon has a firm grasp on what I am doing. I can feel the power surging through both me and him at this point."

_"Allow your meister's wavelength to mingle with your own, and try channelling your own power into theirs. It will amplify your meister's wavelength so that they can form the resonance."_

"The power gets fed back to me at this point and I can feel Soul's energy as well. I connect fully with him at this point, and his form begins to change." Maka blinked. This process was too natural for her to describe, because she'd done it a million times. A slow and measured resonance was just odd.

There was a sudden chorus of hushed admiration from the crowd, and it took her a moment to figure out why. Soul's form had, of course, shifted, and she heard the tell-tale sound of his now glowing resonance form solidifying. "Witch Hunt," she announced, to a smattering of applause.

_"This impresses them? That's cute," _Soul said to her in a voice she knew only she could hear. _"Wanna step it up?"_

"Sure," she replied. "Just . . . be careful."

_"What do you mean?"_

"We're inside, Soul. Don't go breaking anything because you're too big."

_"That's what _she_ said."_

" . . . I'll lodge you into a tree or a rock and leave you there."

_"Okay, I got it, shutting up."_

"Wow!" one kid said. "Will we be able to change shape like that once we're able to resonate with our partners?" She looked over excitedly at the thin girl beside her, who smiled along as well. Clearly the two were new-formed partners.

"Yes," Marie smiled, "but it will take a little bit of time before you'll be able to match your wavelengths. Once you manage it, controlling your resonance is extremely difficult as well. Don't expect it to be easy just because you've seen Soul and Maka do it; they've been resonating for roughly three years now. Their souls are practically glued together."

"Isn't that painful?" some pipsqueak piped up from the back row. "Being all squished together like that?"

Soul's voice came from his blade once again. _"The first time, it stings a little bit. Mostly it's just the power, if you're a weapon. You get used to it_._"_

"Right," Maka agreed, "and Soul and I are almost always resonating in some form or another now. Our wavelengths have synchronized. If you practice enough, you'll be the same way. Once your resonance is stable, as ours is now, you can enhance it. For example."

She closed her eyes and let Soul's wavelength surround her. She could feel his slight amusement at her teacher-like manner, the way he was marvelling at the _shortness _of these kids, and his underlying fatigue due to the mission they had taken together last night. She almost didn't feel the increased resonance, just letting it wash over her like a wave. "Majin Hunt."

This technique was more difficult, but they had mastered it a year ago, so Soul's form grew effortlessly, shining in a more dazzling way and extending fully through his Death Scythe form. More applause had broken out, and Maka resisted the urge to take a bow due to the way her partner would react.

"Thank you, Soul and Maka, for that demonstration," Stein said with a slight smile at his students. Of course, seeing as it was him, the smile was creepy as hell, but the thought was there. "You may release resonance now. Soul, could you please transform once you are back to your original form?"

Soul obeyed, letting his resonance form shatter like glass. With a flash of light, he was once again a regular scythe. One more flash left him standing beside Maka, his hands jammed into his pockets and his habitual slouch present as ever. He raised one white eyebrow at the professor, questioning the necessity of his human form.

There was a slight sigh from the seats, and Maka was irritated to see half of the girls – maybe more – staring at her partner with little love hearts in their eyes. Sure, he had filled out well and now, at eighteen, he was certainly not a sight for sore eyes, she'd admit. He was muscled, lean, and his hair still framed his face in that odd way of its . . . She ceased her analysis of him, cataloguing away data that she'd already known. Maka had caught herself staring at Soul many a time, so she didn't need to do it yet again. She was trying to wean herself off of that nasty habit before he noticed.

Soul shrugged his shoulders and Maka realised the professor must have said something to him. Before she could react, he was turning to face the eager students, shaking out his right arm. _Oh. _He must be displaying form manipulation. Sure enough, Soul's arm glowed for a moment before a sharp blade shot out, just before his elbow. The weapons leaned forwards in their chairs in the audience, intrigued, as Soul retracted the blade with wicked speed. He then made one protrude from his other arm. Being a Death Scythe, he could now shoot blades from almost any part of his body. One came from his back, another from his collarbone, and then one from each leg. He kept switching the blades, retracting and forming them with blinding speed, all with a bored expression on his face as he looked out the highest window of the room. There was a hushed silence as people watched him with admiration or shock. Soul looked over at Maka as if to ask permission to stop, and she nodded after a sign from Marie. As if doing a grand finale, eight blades shot from her partner – one from each shoulder blade, one from each collarbone, one from each arm and one from each leg. All disappeared at the same time and he rolled his shoulders, stepping back beside his meister. She gave him a smile to show he'd done well, and he returned it with his sharp-toothed grin.

"I was half expecting you to pat my head and say 'good dog.'"

She scowled. "I _was_ going to tell you that you were pretty cool, but now you're just an idiot again."

"What can I say? I live to aggravate you."

Marie and Stein then went on to talk about different battle strategies, and Maka and Soul displayed a few neat spins and tactics. Maka was also asked to use Soul Perception by identifying the weapon and meister traits of the new students. It was certainly a party-trick and a half, with the children halfway between amazed at her accuracy and creeped out at her overwhelming knowledge of strangers. Finally, Stein concluded with a speech about different soul types. Maka's Grigori soul was analysed, and she was asked to give another demonstration of flight.

"Fine," Soul grumbled, transforming for what felt like the fifth time in two minutes. _"Can we make it quick though?" _he asked when in scythe form. _"I'm freakin' hungry, and free period ends in twenty minutes." _

"Quit complaining, you pig."

_"Hey, don't call me that! Maybe I'll just make you drop me, and I'll cut you in half!"_

"What? How could you even say that?"

_"I'm hungry. You know how I get when I'm hungry."_

"No, you're just an angry idiot all the time," she said sweetly, and she could see the red eye on the shaft just _glaring daggers _at her. "Shut up and change your form, will you?"

_"Don't you wish _you _could do that, Tiny-Tits? Then I couldn't call you it anymore – OUCH, sorry! Don't drop me again!" _

The students laughed as Maka picked her scythe up once more, mounting it and kicking off from the ground. While in the air, Soul's eye closed and two silvery wings of energy – his wavelength and hers combined – shot out of the side of the shaft. They flapped once and then the pair were floating easily six feet off the ground. Maka stood up on the shaft, feeling her balance instantly adjust by his movement, and there was a tumultuous round of applause. On a request, they flew a circuit around the room before Maka dismounted, swinging Soul over her shoulder once more.

_"Right. If we don't eat now, I'll eat _you._"_

Maka grinned down at her weapon's blade. "Fine, go for it. But then you'll have to cook your own dinner. Forever."

She could physically feel the shudder in his soul.

"That felt weird," Soul commented as he devoured his sandwich. He'd woken up late and consequentially missed breakfast today, and then Maka had forced him to do the introductory speech for the new students. Well, Kid had forced him as a Death Scythe, Stein and Marie had bargained, and Maka had supported the idea wholeheartedly. So it was still technically her fault.

"What did?" his partner asked absent-mindedly, her face buried in her book.

He shrugged his slouched shoulders. "Step-by-step resonance. Weird shit. It was like I had to over-think how to talk."

"Sometimes I wish you would," she muttered with a grin, receiving a snarled scowl in reply. "Kidding! I was kidding. I know what you mean, though. It just felt really odd. I had to think really hard about what I was doing, because it's just something I don't really focus on anymore."

"Mm, kinda instinctual or whatever. Oh well, that's done now," he sighed and stretched with satisfaction, "and the extra credit means I don't have to do Stein's next assignment."

"Hey, _one _of us still has to do it. Who says you get it off?"

"Please. If you take it off, you'll end up doing it anyway, probably with twice the workload standard and word limit, and receive the highest honours in class for your A-plus effort. Why make you prolong your oh-so-evident genius?"

"I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or not," she said with drawn-together eyebrows. "But whatever." There was a slight pause before she spoke again. "Do you remember when we were like that?"

_Young and weird? _"Yeah, sadly. So uncool. Four years is a long time to think back, you know. But I do," he grinned sharply. "And I remember you had fat ankles – "

"MAKA CHOP!"

"Shit."

"That's what I thought. But seriously, I can't believe we turned out how we did, looking back to our partnership back then. Do you think any of those kids will turn out like us?"

Soul contemplated this with his usual cynicism. "Well, let's think back. I got cut open by a crazy-ass demon swordsman and the Demon Sword of all weapons, then I got infected with liquid madness, which now pumps through my bloodstream. We made almost personal enemies with both a Hecate witch and her messed up snake sister, incurred the wrath of about four different witches, and I became a Death Scythe from said Hecate witch's soul. We then became a part of Spartoi, got eaten by a book, killed Giriko, killed Giriko as a _girl_, came back from the book with Kid, beat up a weird guy with a stupid hat, and then _bam_, off we went to the moon. We attacked the Kishin, went _inside_ the Kishin, came back out, watched as the moon became a black blob and returned home. I became the Last Death Scythe due to the treaty with the witches, played the piano for a while, and then we went back to kicking evil ass."

"Wow. We're so _boring_."

He gave her a grin before taking another bite of his sandwich. "Yeah, the uneventful life of a bookworm like you has its pro's and con's. Think any of those newbies can top all of that?"

Maka's thin eyebrows were raised, but she was laughing. "I doubt it. You're a weirdo."

"I am not! I'm just a cool guy who always seems to end up at the receiving end of this world's weirdest and wackiest shit."

"Well put," she smiled. There was a distant sound of a bell ringing, and she extended her hand almost absent-mindedly to her partner. Almost. "Come on, we better get going to Battle Studies before Nygus marks us tardy."

"Or wraps us in bandages and feeds us to her zombie meister. Either, either," Soul returned with a smirk, taking her hand naturally. They held hands a lot nowadays, neither really allowing themselves to focus on the motives or reasoning behind it. Their relationship, their resonance, had advanced so far that the line of their partnership was becoming blurred, even if they didn't admit it. Even if Soul still woke up from the occasional dream with nothing but a memory of green eyes, and even if Maka couldn't take her eyes off of him. "You think Sid and Nygus are a thing, or is that just me?"

She laughed again. "I don't know. See, on one hand, they're always together and they're pretty close, but on the other hand, they could just be really good friends and partners. And on another hand, they're teachers, so _gross_."

"Hey, Stein and Marie were _teachers. _I don't want to know what they were teaching each other - !"

"You're such a pervert!"

He ducked away from her oncoming punch, aimed with her free hand. "Meh, I think they're secretly dating. Even if she belongs with the other bandaged guys in Egypt and he belongs _in bandages_, six feet under."

"You're _so_ kind."

He snorted. "Whatever. Let's go."

They could both feel the resonance through their linked hands all the way to the next class.

* * *

***-Sorry if the constant use of Soul's full name got tiresome at the start there; seeing as that part of the story was from the students' perspective, it seemed necessary to have him referred to in such an impersonal way. **

**This turned out kinda different to how I thought it would, but I actually like it. Plus, Maka is seventeen in this and Soul is eighteen because due to the way they act, I just always assumed Soul was that little bit older than his meister. Even if he is an immature idiot most of the time. **

**Spoilers, spoilers everywhere. This was written before Chapter 113 was released and then revised to include chapter content. Please feel free to point out any fails as per usual. **


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: **__I do not own Soul Eater or the song 'Everything' by Lifehouse. This one-shot will be a little bit shorter, but I have 3000 words every other chapter so it's all good, I hope.  
In the last chapter I made a major boo-boo: the song is called AT SIXES AND SEVENS, and it's from the album BREATHE. Wrong one. So, my bad, sorry to The Never Ever._

_The name of this one-shot, as well as the song quotes, make sense in regards to Soul's last comment to Maka in French. So if you're confused, don't be confused anymore. _

_Thank you to: _Killing Kunoichi, Zeyro, bellabluesmoke, Taden G. Norrans, scorpioneldar, and Bre Renee _(again, because your support is so awesome you have to be mentioned twice) for favouriting/following/reviewing. You guys are cool._

_ONWARDS._

* * *

** SIX – WOULD YOU TELL ME**

_You're all I want.  
You're all I need.  
You're everything._

* * *

She wondered what it would be like, some days.

Maka stared at the television, her gaze blank and unregistering of the events unfolding before her. Her mind was in other places – far more confusing places. She blinked a few times with a lizard-like slowness, mulling over her alarming and yet strangely tempting thoughts.

Would it really be that hard? Surely not. All she had to do was go right up to him, tell him exactly what she thought, and then let the cards fall where they may, right? It would be absolute madness, but were they not already experienced in insanity? Nothing would happen without that little push, and she was sorely tempted to be the one to give it.

Then again, these were only thoughts for some days. On others, like today, she was completely averse to her horrifically bold and embarrassing ideas. She could not, would not just approach her weapon partner, look him in the eye and tell him to stop being such an idiot for making her fall in love with him. She wasn't a character in one of her romance novels. That sort of thing didn't work in real life, unless you happened to hold the physique and overall appeal of someone like Kim Diehl.

After all, Kim was the one the boys thought was cute. She had Ox on a leash, calling her 'angel' all the time. What Maka wouldn't do to have that! Not _Ox_, of course. He was a bull-headed jerk. But all of that attention was thrust on the witch, and she didn't even appreciate it! When she'd told Soul about her feelings regarding the title of 'Angel', during their flight training, he'd just given her a _look._ A 'Maka-What-The-Hell-Stop-Acting-Like-A-Child' look. He'd called her 'angel' later on, sure, but had he really meant it? Or had he just been teasing her? Soul was an ass most of the time - so much that it was hard to tell whether he was being chivalrous or cynical.

Then there were the more ostentatious . . . assets Kim possessed that Maka would kill for. Such as a sense of appeal to any male within a hundred-mile radius. Although she was tough, stern and a _bookworm_ (although she'd never let Soul hear her agree with his nickname, even if she was just thinking it), she wasn't that bad-looking, was she? _Was she? _Maybe Soul was right, that dick, maybe -

"Do you even understand anything they're saying, or are you just trying to increase the month's electricity bill for kicks?"

"Gah!" She blinked, looking up at said dick-ish weapon in question in surprise from his sudden apparition. At his grin, her own expression was replaced with a glare. "What are you talking about?"

He gave her a _'duh'_ look. "The television? Or are there other people talking in the lounge room that I can't see?"

She frostily replied, "Of course I understand what the people on TV are saying, Soul. I'm not an idiot."

"Oh really?" Soul stooped to the fridge – he was really quite stupidly tall now, Maka thought absent-mindedly – and retrieved two cans of soda before turning to face her with his usual smirk. "Do tell me what this segment's about then, I'm _dying _to know."

Angrily, the meister turned to the television. She didn't know what she was watching, but she was smart enough to pick up on the topic. Soul was being cocky, and she was going to shut him up so she could go back to her meditations on his dick-ish-ness. After a moment, though, her angry observation of the program was brought to a halt – the people on-screen weren't speaking English. It sounded like they were talking in French, and the words on the bottom of the screen looked like it. _Ah, Death._ She didn't speak one word of French.

"Well? I'm waiting," Soul said impatiently as he flopped down onto the unoccupied section of sofa. He tossed her an orange-flavoured soda and cracked open his own, squinting at the letters on the LCD. "I'll miss the story soon, and I still don't know what's going on."

"Idiot," she said again quickly, but her mind was reeling. What was she going to say? She couldn't admit to Soul that he was right about something, that she hadn't been watching the television but instead thinking of how _good he looked in his Spartoi shirt_ . . . That would mean that she was wrong.

And unless you wanted a book to the skull, Maka Albarn was never wrong.

_Wait_, she thought breathlessly. _That's it. I'm never wrong_. Sure, she didn't know French, but . . . neither did Soul. He was bad enough speaking English, his first language. There was no way he would be able to read even one word of something as poetic as French. She could just make up a story to go with the television. He'd never catch her out on her fib! She grinned inwardly. _So he thinks he's so smart? Fine. _It took a second to analyse the screen and ensure the images displayed would match up with her story. Ice, Antarctica, water . . . they must be talking about climate change!

With all the confidence she could muster, she turned to him with a smug smile. "For your information, I was watching the panel debate about the separation of ice due to climate change. They're discussing the way the floating ice caps will affect our own temperatures and water supply. It's really interesting. Pity _you can't watch it." _She added a mocking effect to the last few words.

_Take that. _She was practically glowing with satisfaction as she turned back to the program. Now all she had to do was keep a decent poker face and he'd never work out she was lying . . .

"Huh." Soul sipped his drink and looked away from her, at the screen. His face was unreadable. "Sorry, then."

_Yes! _"You should be. Honestly, do you really think I'm that stupid, watching a foreign program if I don't know the language? Have some faith, Soul." She was rubbing salt in the wound, but it was worth it. He was looking at the screen with a twisted face. She'd clearly won . . .

"Oh, I'm not apologizing. I meant sorry, but I know you're _lying_." The twisted expression flattened into a grin.

Maka tensed, but did not lose her game. He was bluffing; he had to be. She wouldn't give herself away that easily – she knew him far too well. "I am not! What makes you say that? Can't you see the pictures well enough?"

Soul looked from the show to her, a smug smirk on his face. _"Non, mais je peux entendre _juste parfaitement_." _

"W . . . What?"

"I said, _'_no, but I can hear _just perfectly.'"_ He snorted, that shit-eating grin still on his face as he took another longer sip. Maka just gaped at him. "Couldn't you understand me? Strange, I thought you _spoke French_."

"B-but you don't know French."

"Oh yeah? Well then, why don't you explain to me why your panel discussion on climate change is actually a wildlife show doing a special on Emperor penguins?"

Maka turned, ready to argue, but to her horror her words were interrupted by the sounds of squeaks. Surely enough, a moment later the screen was filled with adorable Emperor penguin chicks, their grey downy feathers ruffled by the cold Antarctic wind.

She whirled on him again to find him still looking at the screen. "Well they are just fucking _adorable. _I can see why you'd be worried about continental drift of the ice caps. If these little suckers ever die out, what will we use as a model for kids' plush toys? The economy would take a _dive._" He said this last part in a scientific, slow voice.

"Maka . . ."

"Don't –"

"CHOP!"

Soda flew from Soul's hand and onto the table as he fell back onto the couch's arm. He sat up not a moment later – after years of this treatment, he was well accustomed to recovering from an otherwise-deadly Maka Chop – and grimaced, placing a hand on his now wet shirt. "Nice going."

"You were the one being a – a . . ." _Dick_, she mentally added, blushing bright red from embarrassment. "You're cleaning all of this up, too! And cleaning up after dinner tonight!"

"_What?! _I didn't do anything! Just because you can't speak French!"

"CHOP!"

"Shit," he groaned, this time simply slumping down onto the couch. "You're a hard-ass bitch sometimes, you know that?"

"Understood," she said primly, sipping her own can of soda. "And you're a cocky bastard who knows about five French words and thinks he's a genius. Remind me why we're partners again?"

He looked at her with one of his more serious expressions for a moment, and her hard gaze softened. There was something there in his eyes, something that hadn't been there a moment ago. It made her stomach feel weird and made her think of him as a dick once again because . . .

"Vous etés mon tout," he said easily, the moment of serious intensity ending with his easy drawl. With that he stood, heading for the kitchen to get a towel.

"What did you just say?" she asked, trying to control the squirm in her stomach.

"I said - I said 'Emperor penguins are cute.'" He came back a moment later with an orange dish-towel, not facing her. Still, she could tell he was grinning. "You'd understand me, you know . . . _if you knew French."_

Because his face was angled away, she also couldn't see his blush. He'd had the audacity to say the words:

_You are my everything._

What she didn't know wouldn't kill her.

Soul was lucky to avoid a third consecutive Maka-Chop for that one. And he only did so because now Maka was meditating on a new concerning, yet equally exciting, thought train as opposed to her previous one. She was thinking just how much sexier everything sounded in French.

* * *

**I don't know, I always assumed he'd speak French because he was from an aristocratic family. Meh. Head-canon. **

**If you speak French and read this, I could have translated it wrong. I don't speak much at all, and this is what my translator spit back out at me.**

**I realised I write a lot of depressing things (metaphor this, metaphor that), so this was intended as a more light-hearted chapter. Sorry if it broke the flow of previous ones but I figured it would be nice to mix it up a bit. Good change, or . . . ?**

**Okay bye. **


	7. Chapter 7

**_A/N: _**_I do not own Soul Eater or the song 'Cold Winter's Breeze' by Lakyn. I have an awkwardly huge fan-crush on this man. _

_Thank-you to:_ fireprooflawyer, Megan26 _(you lovely person, you!)_, Killing Kunoichi _(AGAIN),_ 00-SilentObserver-13, AnimeLuver202, Uchihasforever24, BJ22219, animanga33, _and _tarheelborn _for adding to favourites/follows/reviewing. Your comments make me feel happy because you're nice._

_Follows list has overtaken favourites list. I've been waiting for this, trying to see if they'll race for it. Ah, the sad life I lead._

_Sorry. Story, yep._

* * *

**SEVEN – NO LUCK**

_You can float overseas.  
You're as free as the trees.  
I'll brush past you,  
Like a cold winter's breeze.  
- "Cold Winter's Breeze", _Lakyn (Heperi).

* * *

Did they really think she was that stupid?

Maka kept her eyes down as she moved past the group of girls in the bathroom, reaching for the sink to wash her hands. She knew her face was probably red, but if she kept her face down, her bangs could just hide that fact, right? All of her concentration was inflicted on the tap in front of her as she rinsed off her small hands, reaching for the gloves in her trench-coat pocket. She could feel the eyes of the group on her back like a physical presence, but she shook it off and left the bathroom, her hands balled into fists.

They hadn't really done anything wrong, per se. Sure, they may have been a little bitchy about her in general, but she didn't care about what people thought regarding her. It had been the _other_ subject of their conversation that had intruded on Maka's mind while in the bathroom. They'd been gossiping about the upcoming holiday - _Valentine's Day, the horror of all horrors - _and who they were wanting to be noticed by on such a farce of a celebration on "love."

Even this topic, despite being particularly despicable to Maka, wasn't the cause of her sudden flushed face and twisted expression. Those girls had been part of a steadily growing pack, one that was intruding increasingly on her life. And that group was the amount of girls who were supposedly "in love" with Soul.

The thought made her gut twist. Those stupid airheads had discussed their methods of communicating their hearts' wishes to the Death Scythe, and all of them had done the exact same thing. Each one of them had left a letter in her partner's locker, requesting a partnership of either the meister/weapon or mouth/mouth variety. There had been four girls in there, which meant four letters. Four little pieces of paper. Four opportunities for him to leave her for another meister. She wasn't one to play with Fate, so those four little possibilities did not feel good.

It wasn't just the partnership letters, either. It was the love letters. Something about them made her stomach twist. She wouldn't blame it on anything romantic – Death forbid Maka Albarn become sentimental over an idiot like Soul Eater, she'd have to Maka Chop _herself!_ – but she'd figured something out a long time ago. Once Soul got a girlfriend, he'd start spending all of his time with her. He'd hang out with her friends instead of his own. He'd go over to her house instead of being at home with Maka. Maybe, if they dated long enough, he'd leave and move in with her. There was a worse alternative – maybe after he discovered the effect he had on women, he'd start to utilize it. He'd become her Papa, and leave her alone to die.

Okay, so maybe she was being melodramatic, but it _was_ nearly Valentine's Day. It was sure to bring out the worst in people. And then there were those _letters._

All of her problems, fears and insecurities, all nicely wrapped up in one little envelope and sealed with a love-heart sticker.

"Hey, are you all right? You've gone kind of red," Liz commented as Maka returned to the lunch hall, where everyone else was eating.

She flinched. "Huh? Yeah, I'm fine! Just great!" _Crap, that was too fast, they're going to know something's up. _"So . . . what's the lunch special today?"

"Chicken salad," Tsubaki answered her as she sat beside the other girl. "It's really nice. Do you want me to get you some? You don't look too good."

"I'm _fine_, don't worry. I'll get some in a minute." She needed to get this red-face issue dealt with, pronto. Taking a hearty sip from her water-bottle, she cleared her throat and looked around.

Their lunch table was always an . . . interesting one to behold. From Patti's new ostentatious yellow giraffe backpack to Black*Star's demonstration on the "godly" way to eat chicken, there was never a quiet moment. Every single member of the group brought their own weird little quirk or personality twist to the conversations and gatherings, making everything a mix between fun and _terrifying_.

"Hey Maka, where's Soul?" Black*Star asked between massive inhalations of food. She was surprised he could even _breathe _while he consumed the burger and fries at that rate, let alone speak. "I need to talk to him 'bout something."

"Huh? What do you mean, he's right . . ." Maka turned on the spot to the seat beside her. The _empty _seat. How had she not noticed Soul's absence? Usually he was the first person she spotted. With his white hair and indescribably unique wavelength, she was drawn to his presence. Then again, usually she didn't need to find him in a room. They were always together, something Liz found 'adorable' and Black*Star found 'stalker-ish.' "I don't know. I would have thought he'd be here. You know, where the _food_ is."

"I haven't seen him since class, actually," Liz supplied. "You left to go to the bathroom, and I just assumed he went with you."

"What? _Gross!"_

"That's not what I meant, but if you're _interpreting _it that way . . ." The eldest Thompson waggled her eyebrows. "Explains your blush when you came to sit down."

Maka huffed. "I wasn't blush – shut up, you! I haven't seen him since class either. That's weird, usually all he wants to do after Training is eat and then sleep."

"Why don't you just use Soul Perception to find him?" Tsubaki asked, nibbling on her lettuce. "Can you find one particular soul among this many others?"

"With a normal person, no. With Soul, yes. I can find that idiot anywhere."

Liz smirked. "And I think we all know why that is . . ."

"Because I resonate with him a lot," Maka cut in firmly, annoyed at the other girl's antics. Lately she'd been cracking a lot of jokes about her and her weapon, which were getting on her nerves. It didn't help that Maka was a notorious blusher. Soul would start making asshole-y comments if he caught wind of what was being said. Of course he wouldn't though, because he was doing extra Death Scythe trainings. They took so much out of him that he just slept as soon as they went on lunch breaks. Thank Death.

Despite Liz's crude comments and another mention of 'bathroom' and something like 'debauchery', Maka closed her eyes and took Tsubaki's advice. While her Perception wasn't as strong in such a crowded area as Shibusen's halls, it only took her a few seconds to find him.

A dark sort of aura, slight edge of madness, and a tarnished yet still extremely poignant wavelength reacting instinctively with her own. There he was.

"He's at the lockers," she said to Black*Star, her eyes flickering open.

Black*Star gave a low whistle. "That's creepy. I hope you don't check up on me whenever I'm off doing muscle training. Although you wouldn't need to use your Human Radar power to find me - my Godly aura would be able to be seen from here!" He laughed at his own joke.

Maka muttered, "Well, we could certainly _hear_ you," before standing up and grabbing her water-bottle. "I'm going to go see what he's doing. I need to get my lunch money out of my locker anyway."

Liz grinned as the meister walked away. "The lovers' quarrels never get tiring, do they?"

"What do you mean? They aren't together," Tsubaki asked, watching Maka's retreating profile. "Although I wish they would be."

"I totally ship it," Black*Star said loudly before going back to his burger.

"Did he just say . . ."

"I don't really want to know. And no, they aren't together _yet._ But it's even more fun watching them pretend not to be hot for each other than it would be if they were making out all over the table!" Liz exclaimed with a gleam in her eye. "Are we still on for the bets on when they'll hook up? I think Patti goes bust next week."

"No way, sis!" Patti exclaimed. "They'll be making mini scythes before next week, just wait! Maybe even today!"

Both of the other girls paled at the comment. Liz, after a moment, went back to more anecdotes about bathrooms and blushing pigtailed girls.

It was only once she got closer to the lockers that she realised he was in a sour mood. Her Perception picked up on it easily, because he was _pissed _and it made his wavelength skip in its usually-steady beat. It was unsurprising that he was agitated, really, considering he wasn't at lunch. Experience had taught her that a hungry Soul was two things; an unhappy Soul, and a _dead_ everyone else. That wasn't the only thing she could tell, though. He was also _not alone_. There were two other souls directly nearby to his, so close that they had to be talking. For a moment Maka wondered whether that was why he was so angry, but then her heart thudded and stopped.

The letters.

What if –

Her pace quickened unintentionally as she flipped back a stray pigtail. She didn't know who he was talking to, but it might be a potential girlfriend. A little love-heart on an envelope. She had to get to him before he agreed to be someone's Valentine . . .

_Why?_

This time it was her feet and not her heart that stopped. Why the hell was she so anxious to prevent this? Her reasoning of his leaving her was stupid, despite her faith in it. He'd proved in the Sloth Chapter of the Book of Eibon that he was worth trusting when it came to sticking by her. Why had she been so against his talking to other girls if she wasn't afraid of losing her weapon to another meister?

Was she really just worried about losing him to another _girl_?

_Yes,_ she realised with shock and shame. _I am. How selfish and petty. That girl in the Book was right about one thing – I'm selfish. If he wants to date someone, it's none of my business_.

But she wanted it to be her business. He was free, wasn't he? Maybe she should butt out and let him be with who he wanted.

_Maybe I should gouge my eyes out with a spoon._

Her feet had started moving again somehow, and she wasn't quite sure how to make them stop. She kept going, internally debating her innermost motives, until she reached the spot where both of their lockers were.

The scene in front of her was not one that she had expected.

Soul had one hand in the locker, pushing things around, and the other in his hair. He looked annoyed, but only in his eyes; she doubted anyone but her would be able to tell. Certainly no letter-writer.

_No. Stop it._

The two in front of him were, as predicted, girls. Very pretty girls from the NOT class, if Maka was correct. They stood looking at him and twiddling their fingers through their hair, in the most cliché flirt gesture. The surprising thing was that they looked dissatisfied.

" . . . So could you please _not_?" Soul was saying, turning back to the locker. "I can't even open the damn thing anymore."

The girls looked crestfallen, but nodded. A few awkward seconds transpired before they walked away, still playing with their hair and sending sad glances back at the Death Scythe over their shoulders. He paid no heed, simply shoving something else to the side.

"Hi," she said, walking up to him once the coast was clear. Her heart was thudding in her ears in an embarrassing way and she knew she was flushed again. Had she really just averted that crisis-waiting-to-happen? The girls had left! They looked sad! Maybe he'd said no!

. . . Or maybe he'd already said yes to someone else. There went the relief she was storing.

"Hey, what's up?" he asked over his shoulder, putting something else in the locker. _What in Death's name is he doing? _

She frowned. "I should be asking you that. You look really annoyed, and what's the deal with your locker?"

He paused, looking at her guiltily, and it was only then that she realised he wasn't in _his _locker. He was in _hers._ "What the hell do you think you're doing?! Get out of my stuff! Maka CHOP!"

"_Shit_," he groaned from the ground, rubbing his head. "You wouldn't need to wield me at all if you hit pre-Kishin like that."

"Start talking. Why are you in my locker?"

"Because," he swallowed, "I needed to put my books and stuff in there."

"That's why you have your own, idiot!"

"Don't start with the 'idiot' thing again, please. And I can't put my stuff in there."

"Why?" she demanded, reaching for his own locker. With swift fingers she turned the dial and unlocked it – he knew her combination as well as she knew his.

"Maka – don't - !"

_CRASH. _The second she pulled it open, an avalanche came spewing out. Little pieces of white flew out in all directions, hitting her in the face and pooling at her feet. A few stuck in her hair and on her clothes as she hastily shut the locker once again. "What in Death's name . . ."

Soul hung his head miserably. "It took me so long to get that to close."

She stared with wide eyes at the pile of envelopes. This was a lot more than four. Sure, he was popular, but _this_ many people? It was ridiculous. How had she not noticed this pour of letters? Requests for him?

"That's why I needed to use your locker for a while, until February ends - and Valentine's Day ends," he explained, stooping to pick up the papers and free her trapped feet. She just stared as he collected all of them, not moving as he pulled them off of her and – very gently – out of her hair. "I just can't get these stupid things out of mine."

When she remained silent, her eyes wide, his tone changed. "What's wrong?"

"So many . . ."

"I've told you this before. They just want to be my partner because I'm a Death Scythe . . ."

"Soul. Those aren't partnership requests."

"Huh?" He glanced down at them. "Close enough, right? It's just a different type of partnership."

"But – there's so many!"

He cocked an eyebrow. "So?"

"Don't you care?"

"Should I? Here, help me out, will you?" Soul carried the pile unceremoniously over to the nearest bin and discarded what he could in one large armful. "I can never seem to get all of them."

Her hands shook slightly. _It's none of my business. None of my business. _"Aren't you going to read any of these?" _What am I saying? _"Someone you like could have left you a letter, and you wouldn't even know." _Shut up, Maka! Why am I encouraging him?_

_Because it's what you should do. As his friend,_ her inner voice said. She punched it in the face with her mind.

Soul gave her an odd look. It was half incredulous and half . . . sad? "I seriously doubt that anyone I'd 'like' would leave one, Maka. Especially not near Valentine's Day; it'd ruin our Independent Individuals Day." They celebrated being alone every year with copious amounts of ice cream and every great movie they could find, because they were united cynics against romance. She should have realised he'd reject offers of relationships revolving around a corny holiday. _Honestly_, she thought, feeling slightly warm at the realisation that he _hadn't _got some hot girlfriend in the time that she'd left him alone, _you'd think I didn't know him at all. _

"Besides," he said, and in that moment his usual smirk was back as he threw the rest of his collection of envelopes away, "who writes a _love letter?_ That's so uncool."

She smiled. "I guess. Come on, you're missing lunch."

"Don't remind me," he moaned. "I'm missing sleeping time."

"You can sleep at home."

"But this place is wonderfully molesting-cat free." She thwacked him in the arm and he gave her a grin. She was startled at the way it made her stomach flip. "What's the special?"

"Salad," she answered in a steady voice.

He gave yet another groan. "Damn it! I should just eat the food in your locker!"

"Wha – no! Speaking of which, I forgot to get my money."

"Don't worry, I'll buy. Come _on_, _food_ is waiting!" He dragged her towards the dining hall once again, ignoring her protests and not seeing her flushed cheeks.

Soul did indeed fall asleep at lunch time yet again. Right on Maka's shoulder.

"Well, what do you know, Patti. I guess I owe you twenty bucks," Liz said sorrowfully.

"Why?" Maka asked with raised eyebrows, trying not to flush any redder as Soul slept peacefully on top of her, his breath on her neck.

Liz grinned. "Never you mind. You just keep away from the bathrooms for a while and maybe I'll get my money back."

"Huh . . . LIZ!"

* * *

**Aha, I've been wanting to write Liz a dirty joke stream ever since the 'No-Panty Shabu Shabu Joint' joke she makes in the Gluttony chapter of the Book of Eibon.**

**It's August, I know. But Valentine's Day because why the hell not. **

**SoMa.  
Even Black*Star ships it. **


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N: **__I do not own Soul Eater or 'It's Not About You' by Scouting For Girls. I've recently just been on a Scouting For Girls arc, if you will, because I listened to one song in my playlist that I hadn't heard in a while and the next thing I knew I was listening to their album on repeat. Twice. So yeah, I guess. (If you've heard this song, it's just these two sections of the lyrics, not the whole message of the song, and I deliberately left out the 4 lines between the two sections)._

_Thanks to: _Cozmo9, DesertSoulLynx, JellyRain, Ryian, The Illusionist's Wings04, A Fishy In The Sea _(and that username is just FANTASTIC!), _fooppoof3, magpiefeather _(again, you're very kind),_ _and last but not least,_ Killing Kunoichi. _Your favouriting/following/updating is very inspiring, so thank you._

_As for reviewers asking when I update, I try and do it every second day, unless I'm dying or there's a bomb or I'm busy doing something crazy._

_Enjoy. _

* * *

**EIGHT – NOTHING TO SAY  
**_And sometimes it's good,  
And sometimes it's bad.  
But living with you,  
Well you're driving me mad._

_She's a beautiful smile,  
She's the gleam in your eye,  
Dresses like a princess,  
Playing games in your mind.  
- "It's Not About You", _Scouting For Girls.

* * *

He was seriously going to _lose his shit_ in a minute.

Soul took an overly aggressive bite of his sandwich, trying not to completely destroy the damn thing with his razor-sharp teeth in his fit of anger. Well, it wasn't exactly a _fit_ – more of a constant cloud over his mind at the moment. He'd tried all kinds of things to calm down, from long showers to relaxing music, but nothing had worked. He was still freaking _pissed._

It had started about a week ago. One long, horrible week. He'd been innocently sleeping on the couch one afternoon, trying to avoid Blair's napping form in his own bed, when it had happened. She'd walked through the door, having just come home from the Gallows Mansion and a sleepover with the other girls, and given him an easy wave before going into her room.

Wearing one of _his_ shirts.

And looking so good it literally hurt.

Soul had fallen off of the couch in surprise – that was how shocked he'd been. Sure, Maka had worn some nice clothes in her lifetime, and he'd admitted that they looked nice, but he'd always attributed it to the style of her outfits. His meister's appearance didn't really matter to him; he'd seen her wearing uniforms, dresses, ridiculous pyjamas, and a lot of blood. He'd seen her cut up after a battle, with a black eye and dirt all over her. In their kind of lifestyle, he didn't really give a shit about her apparel or the way it made her look.

But in that second, that split second of otherwise normalcy, he'd seen her in that shirt and felt a sudden urge to go over there and fucking _take it off_. He didn't know what the hell had just happened to him – it was _Maka_, for Death's sake – but it was like some sort of horrible epiphany, one that he couldn't deal with but had just figured out anyway.

Maka was . . . attractive?

Now, as he sat out in one of Shibusen's many courtyards eating lunch with the rest of his friends – sans Black*Star who was mysteriously absent - and his meister, he was trying not to rip his food apart in his hands. Everything was normal and everyone was present, and none of them were noticing that he was _losing his mind_.

She was sucking on an ice-cream, for the love of Death. Every time she would lick the damn frozen treat, he'd follow the motion faithfully with his eyes, trying not to focus too long on the way her lips were parted, they were a lovely shade of pink, they really looked more delicious than the ice-cream –

_Fuck_. He took another angry bite of his lunch. This had been going on for an unmerciful week and he was afraid that his ruse would soon be up. Every time he saw Maka – which was all the time, he lived with her, after all – he'd get lost in her little mundane motions. They were things she did every day, such as pick up something from the floor or nibble her lip while she read. Nothing ostentatious or exciting. But now he noticed the significant way in which she looked, dare he even think it . . . _hot_. All the time. All the freaking time.

How had nobody noticed? The first day, he'd just stared at her. The second he'd blushed. The third he'd almost drooled. By the fourth he was starting to get on top of the problem. On the fifth she borrowed one of his shirts to sleep in, and by day six, now, he was back to staring.

Forget the Black Blood. _This _was insanity.

" . . . And you should have seen her face!" Liz crowed, bringing him back to reality. The elder Thompson was leaning back on her palms, smirking at the other three girls present. Tsubaki had a hand over her mouth, Patti was leaning forward excitedly and Maka was licking that damn ice-cream, her eyes wide with interest. Eyes that looked too pretty a green for their own good. She was going to kill him soon at this rate.

"What happened?" Tsubaki asked, intrigued by the gossip despite herself.

Liz rolled her eyes, pushing herself up with a sigh. "What do you think? She floored him in front of everyone. Told him not to do things like that in public and to stop stalking her. I don't know what good that was, because she almost knocked him out with that upper-cut. It was brutal." She grinned in a way that showed no sympathy.

"You can't say he didn't see it coming," Maka said pensively, after another torturous lick. "He's always professing his love to Kim, and she always acts the exact same way. She's just taking advantage of him because he's not filthy rich."

"Poor Ox-kun," Tsubaki said with a pitying expression. "It must be awful to care for someone that much just to have it thrown back in your face."

_Oh_, Soul thought unenthusiastically. They were gossiping about Kim knocking Ox around yet again. Soul reckoned she had a thing for him, but was too vain to admit it. The poor sucker. He would never want to date somebody that used people like that girl did. No, if he were going to be . . . romantically involved with someone, it'd have to be a cool girl. Mature, funny, attractive – like Maka . . .

_DAMN IT ALL TO HELL!_

He was watching her, finding her attractive, getting turned on by a damn ice-cream and now he was imagining dating someone like her. Or more accurately, dating _her. _She was messing with his brain, he was sure of it. Soul let out a little groan, dropping his sandwich down onto his legs.

"Soul? Are you okay?" Maka asked worriedly, looking away from the girls. She was staring at him in concern, and he could only imagine why. Was his face red?

When he didn't answer, she started to reach over, probably to feel his forehead and check if he had a temperature or something. He leaned away hastily before she could touch him. Knowing their strong soul resonance and the way he was reacting to her at the moment, he'd accidentally resonate and then she'd match wavelengths with him. She'd get in his head even more than she already was, and three things would happen.

Number one: He'd probably drool over her proximity.

Number two: She'd feel this reaction and discover his inner pervert.

Number three: She'd run off to another non-creepy obsessive partner and they'd live happily ever after while he destroyed every ice-creamery on the face of the planet.

It was funny how life-ruining things always happened in threes.

"I'm fine, Maka," he growled, swatting that accursed hand away. "I just don't feel very well."

Before she could say anything, a loud crash sounded right at his ear. Soul stiffened, whipping his head around. There before him stood Black*Star, who appeared to be . . . holding half of a tree? And not a small thin piece of shit excuse for a tree, but a _proper_ one – full oak with branches and the lot. As everyone gaped at him in shock, he shrugged and spun it around with his wrist.

"The tree was in the way of me, and someone as big as I am will not be stopped by a tree." With this odd excuse Black*Star dropped the giant oak beside him, nearly taking out the white-haired Death Scythe's leg in the process. Tsubaki let out an exhalation of breath as everyone else continued staring, perplexed.

Except Soul, who knew how to read almost anyone, especially his best friend. "You ran into the tree on your way here, didn't you?"

"I did not! It – it jumped in front of me!"

Soul rolled his eyes. "Death, I hate it when that happens. I was nearly punched by a toaster the other day. It was scary as shit."

Maka coughed to hide a laugh and Liz snorted. Black*Star just stuck his nose in the air haughtily before sitting down beside Tsubaki and taking the food she offered him.

"Really?" Patti exclaimed excitedly, leaning forwards in Soul's face. "No way! Why doesn't our toaster ever do that, Kiddo?"

The Shinigami sighed, humouring his young weapon. "Because I trained it not to. The symmetry of the room would be off."

_"Oh. _Okay."

"Am I the only one who gets worried about how easily she believes him?" Maka whispered to Soul with a grin. He couldn't lean away from her fast enough and as a result copped the feel of her breath on the rim of his ear. He reeled back, almost falling over, and his sandwich fell from his lap to the dirt. Maka looked at him in concern and slight offence. "What's your _problem_ today?"

"I told you, I don't feel good. I bet you poisoned me with your cooking."

"Maka-CHOP!"

"Fuck!"

With Soul appropriately incapacitated, she frostily said, "You cooked dinner last night, not me. And I'm glad you feel sick if you're going to be mean. That's what you get."

"Fine," he grumbled, rubbing his head gingerly and sitting up. Everyone was looking at him and Maka, wary of the beginning of a fight. While Maka and Soul didn't fight much in public, having most of their 'domestics' while at home, when they fought they held nothing back. It wasn't exactly pleasant to watch. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go die in a hole. Enjoy your lunch."

He stood up – slowly, Maka had just Chopped the life out of him – and started to trudge towards the school, his hands jammed deeply in the pockets of his white Spartoí jacket. It was completely uncool to walk away like that, but really, what else could he do? He had to get away from _her_. She was in his brain, she was in his mind, and she was in his soul.

What the _fuck_ had happened to him? He didn't stop walking until he was out at the edge of the wall overlooking Death City. Clambering inelegantly onto the sill, he let his legs hang down as his head landed in the pocket of his hands. He thought back. Had he been hit by a spell on a mission? No, that was stupid and impractical. Had he eaten something? No, that wouldn't last a week and mess with his brain. Had he hit his head?

That was it. Those fucking Maka-Chops had made him screwy.

_Gah, this is ridiculous._ Soul tugged at his hair with his long fingers. What was he going to do? He'd had to lean away from Maka before she touched him and made him have a weird little aneurism of perverted attraction. What about the mission they were taking on Friday? He'd have to transform, have her hold him, have their souls meshed together. Would all of his dirty little secrets come spilling out?

Oh Death. What if she held him at a bad angle and he could see up her skirt . . . ? _No, why am I even thinking that?_

_Blame the Maka-Chop._

That was it, Maka was wearing pants on Friday and he was going to get Stein or Nygus to dig around in his brain and get rid of some craziness. This couldn't go on. She'd flip if she knew he was watching her every move. She'd scream if she knew he was staring at her long legs. She'd yell if she knew he was fantasizing about her bright eyes. She'd go _mental_ if she knew the things he was thinking about those small, shell-coloured, _kissable_ lips . . . !

Hell, he didn't even care that she was flat-chested. And when he didn't care about that, there was definitely a problem. He believed that only the shape of the soul mattered, but Maka had good-shaped _other things_ and he just . . . _Fuck._

" . . . What did I ever do to you?"

_No, shit, not you, go away,_ Soul mentally prayed as all of his problems came storming towards him in an angry cloud of attractive fury. Damn her. He wished she'd never worn his shirt. She must have taken his silence as an agreement that she'd done something wrong, because Maka let out a huff and marched over to him.

"Go away, Maka."

"Why?" She grabbed his shoulder and pulled him around to face her, glaring at him. _Her face is too close to me! Black*Star, quick, throw another tree or something!_ "What the Hell did I do to you, you idiot?"

He let out a sigh uncomfortably, trying to manoeuvre away from her mouth before he accidentally intentionally made contact with it. "You – nothing. I just don't want you here right now. Go away."

_Whack_. She'd hit him over the head. "I'm not going, why should I? Why don't you?"

"Because I was here first?" How could he find someone this irrational, rude and bossy attractive? Seriously?

"Idiot!" Maka screeched again, turning away from him with clenched fists. A part of him felt guilty at making her this pissed, and another felt fear for what she was about to do to him. Maka didn't usually run away from a problem or conflict – she went at it head-on and tried to kill it with proverbial fire. That was the reason they fought so much. "You always do this, Soul."

_What, try not to violently make out with you? _"What do you mean?"

"You never tell me what's bothering you!"

Okay, that was true. He sighed, ruffling his hair with his large hand. "This isn't something I can talk to you about."

"It never is." Her voice cracked on this last part and suddenly his heart sunk in his chest. Oh no. Was she . . . was she _crying_? Had he made her cry?

"Maka?"

"Fine," she said after a pause. "I'm – going –" And before he could say anything else, she'd turned and ran.

Yep.

She was crying.

He let his head fall into his hands again. He hated making her cry, and he privately and sadly knew that he did it way too often. It was terrible, considering he loved her.

Yes, there it was. Strangely, unlike the fact that she was attractive, this knowledge hadn't shocked him when he'd figured it out. He mightn't have had the best grades, but he wasn't stupid. He could accept the fact. He fought with her, lived with her, risked his life for her on an almost-daily basis. She was the only one to understand him. How could he _not _love her? Not realising or dealing with the fact would have been awkward, stupid and uncool.

And Soul Eater was never uncool.

He'd always kept a cap on his . . . loving feelings and shit. Maybe the whole issue with this attractiveness thing was the fact that it was making it hard for him to keep it in. He had to, because if he didn't their partnership would be well and truly fucked, and it was everything to him.

Their partnership was everything.

He could disappoint his parents, ruin his chances to be a musician, do everything else wrong.

But this was Maka Albarn, his Maka, so he would _not fuck this up._

Maybe that was why he stood up, dusting off his pants, and gave Death City one last look before going off in the direction that she'd run. He'd apologize and make up some reason for his mood. Because it was her.

* * *

"Stupid idiot. I hate him. Stupid idiot, idiot, idiot!" She was in the training room, taking out her anger on one of the poor unfortunate punching bags used for strength development.

Soul coughed. "The punching bag isn't an idiot. It's just misunderstood."

She stiffened, dropping her fist. "What do you want?"

_To kiss you._ "To talk to you."

"I thought you didn't want me there, remember?"

"I know what I said, I was there." He cringed. He shouldn't be baiting her, but it was Maka. He was always going to annoy her and she'd annoy him in return. It was how their partnership worked as well as it did – mutual irritation brings mutual affection, after all. Mr. Darcy had taught everyone that.*

Maka turned quickly, looking him in the eye. "You're an idiot."

"You're angry. Look, we both stated an obvious fact!"

Despite herself she cracked a small smile. It was quickly erased. "I have every right to be angry."

He shrugged. After an awkward pause, his shoulders dropped, as did his head. "I was uncool. Sorry."

She nodded. "You were." That was all she needed to say, because he could translate her words: _Apology accepted. _

"So are you going to tell me why you were so angry, or am I going to use you as the next punching bag?" she asked, walking over to the drink fountain to kill her thirst.

"You'll hit me anyway, it's inevitable."

"Oh, look, someone's using their big-boy words!"

"Hey, I said sorry. Jeez."

And then it happened. She leaned over and pushed the button on the water fountain. She drank. She stood up.

Her. Lips. Were. Wet.

And. He. Couldn't. Deal. With. It.

_Aw, fuck it._

Three steps were all it took. Three quick strides. Because everything life-ruining happened in threes. Before his mind could scream at him to _Stop, you idiot!, _he'd grabbed her wrist.

"Soul, what are . . . ?"

Three seconds was the amount of time it took for him to push her against the wall. Three words were all she managed. Three counts.

And then he was getting back at the band shirt. He was taking his revenge on the ice-cream. He was fighting the idea to make her wear pants on Friday . . . no matter how wrong that last one sounded. Maka made some sort of weird noise for a second against his mouth as he pressed it against her own, his hands automatically clenching on her hips. Her body remained frozen in shock as for three whole seconds he kissed her.

After those three seconds his poor bumbling mind _finally _caught up and he pushed away from her in horror.

_OhMyDeathWhatTheHellDidIJustDoI'mAnIdiotShe'sGoing ToKIllMeAndCookMeForDinner – _"I . . . I . . ."

She stared at him. He stared back. The fountain kept bubbling, and there were three more damn awkward seconds of _what just happened._

And then she stepped towards him and grabbed his tie. He gripped her shoulders. She leaned forward before he could process again what they were doing, and it looked like she wasn't thinking either. It looked like she didn't care. He sure as Hell didn't. Maybe she'd Chopped him so hard his mind had just given out, but if this was happening he wasn't worried.

She kissed him this time, but he didn't remain frozen. He let his mouth hit hers back with equal vigour, letting his hands move to her waist and back as hers reached to pull at his hair.

Needless to say, they kissed for a lot longer than three seconds.

* * *

***- Pride and Prejudice's Mr. Darcy. Because he set the bench-mark too high for every guy ever.**

**Ohmygod I had to write something like this in commemoration of the last chapter of the manga. If you've read it, you know what I mean. **

**See you in two days. **


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N:**__I do not own Soul Eater or Masketta Fall's "Do You Wanna Dance."_

_I wanted to have a go at writing a quadrant story, so the same night split into four different parts (skipping out bits in the middle). I don't know how it ended up, what do you think?_

_Math exams caused the delay in uploading. Sorry if you were waiting, I'm a horrible person. _

_WARNING: SPOILERS for the MANGA ENDING. Also, swearing is fairly high in here because Soul's having a crisis. Yay. _

**_Thanks:_ **Atomic-Whale, Rusty136, Misery Love My Company, falling embers17, _and _Professor Maka,_ for your favouriting/following/boss reviews. _

_Well alright then._

* * *

**NINE – TONIGHT**

_Do you wanna dance with me?  
Feel the wind under your feet?  
- "Do You Wanna Dance", _Masketta Fall.

* * *

Soul looked down at himself once more, his expression quickly forming a scowl as he took in his own appearance.

_Stupid suit_.

How had she managed to force him into one of these damn things again? Maka had a knack for convincing him to do things he didn't want to do – anyone could see that. Still, though, this time he'd told himself that he'd put his foot down. He wasn't going to do it. He was adamant on that fact – this was Soul Evans'* limit, and they would _not _push it.

_Yeah, right._

There was one particular trait possessed only by Maka Albarn, and that was _godly _stubborn-ness. She wouldn't lose a fight. That was what allowed her to be such a strong meister, the wielder of a Death Scythe. While her determination was often something to be admired, it also came in as completely unhelpful in social situations. She wouldn't admit that she was wrong. She wouldn't back down in an argument. And she sure as hell wouldn't accept the fact that her partner didn't want to go to Shibusen's ball for the anniversary of the Kishin Asura's suppression on the moon without the excuse of a life-threatening illness.

"How can you _not _want to go?" she'd asked him, shocked. "After all, we couldn't have even _tried_ to defeat the Kishin without you! People will _expect _you to be there!"

He'd rolled his eyes in return. "Oh, boo-hoo. You should know I don't care what people think."

"Not _enough_, clearly."

"Don't you remember what happened the _last time _we went to a ball at the school?"

"I highly doubt that _that_ will happen again. Besides, aren't you meant to give a speech?"

He'd choked on his soda. "_What?"_

"Lord Death was telling me about it when I gave him the mission report yesterday. He said he was going to tell you."

"_Kid!_ _Why that son of a bitch little piece of –_"

She'd stared, surprised, when he'd thrown himself off of the lunch bench in a fit of anger, stormed up to the Death Room, waltzed in without an answer, _punched_ Death Scythe out of the way and showed their 'ruler' exactly what he thought of his neglect in passing on information.

After Kid had confirmed that _yes,_ Soul _was _doing a speech, _no_, he had _not _told him due to a 'Liz and Patti issue', and _next time you go on a rampage and punch Death Scythe I'll let you get detention_, Maka had unleashed her wrath on the poor weapon.

She'd snuck up on him with a barrage of reasons to attend the dance; she'd used threats and taken away his headphones and iPod; she'd whipped out her infamous puppy-dog eyes and nearly resorted to fake tears. She'd even tried the whole "as my partner, you should care about what I want" lecture. He hadn't cracked. Not one bat of an eyelid from Soul Evans, master of cool. He knew her games, he saw straight through her watery eyes. She'd grudgingly given up and just ignored him for a while.

And then she'd pulled the ultimate ace, kicking his feet out from under him and leaving no room for his confident refusal to attend to apply.

"Soul . . . I don't think I can go without you. Not – not after Crona."

Those tears hadn't been fakes. The waver in her voice hadn't been fakery. And of course, he was an absolute sucker when it came to Maka crying. It made him feel awkward, uncomfortable and just overly _bad,_ like he'd punched an old lady.

Which he had, once – a Kishin who could shape shift. He'd had to punch it, looking like an old and frail woman, straight in the face. He still cringed whenever that mission was mentioned. It was _uncool_, the worst of the worst.

And now here he was, looking down at his black suit, black shirt and black tie. Fine. They could force him to attend this shitty celebration and they'd somehow forced him into giving a speech – which he'd then somehow forced himself to write with no help – but they couldn't force him to enjoy himself. He'd donned a completely black suit to ensure he gave off no impression of joy whatsoever. The only colour in his entire outfit was a red silk handkerchief which was folded neatly in the suit's breast pocket.

Because he may have been aggravated and irritated and annoyed and exasperated and _he was out of damn synonyms_, but he was also classy. Classy as fuck.

So he was going to go to this damn ball, make sure Maka didn't have a Crona-related meltdown, try not to re-live any bad memories, and hopefully sneak away to sleep somewhere for the rest of the night.

* * *

Damn it, damn it, damn it, _damn it!_ He hadn't planned this out well, hadn't considered all of the potential results of his actions, and now he was going to die here. He'd had so much to live for, so much time to do what he wanted to do, and none of it mattered. There was no way he was going to survive tonight.

"_Shit!"_ he hissed, his dress shoes causing him to slide on the slick floor as he turned sharply around a corner. Their loud footfalls drummed an angry rhythm into his ears as they pursued him, their eyes watching keenly to catch sight of their target. He ducked down another hallway; thanking Death that Shibusen was so spread out and hard to manoeuvre.

He heard one of them shout his name, the others taking it up as a demented kind of battle cry. In a last-ditch effort, he threw himself through the nearest doorway, ending up in the NOT classroom. The thunderous thumping of the horde continued past the entrance and soon they were out of earshot. Then, and only then, did Soul release his breath in one loud huff. He leaned against the teacher's bench, sucking in air through his mouth and holding his side. He'd completely forgotten about one thing when preparing for tonight's ball.

He had fangirls.

"Maka's gonna kill me," he groaned under his breath, his head in his hands. She'd looked pretty red in the face when he'd ducked away from her arm, staring at the girls who were eyeing him hungrily. He'd asked his meister whether it was just him or they looked crazy, but at the sound of his voice, they'd _attacked. _In one horrible motion they'd just kind of _surged _at him, asking him to dance.

And he'd politely said, "Sorry, I have to make a speech tonight and I need to see Lord Death." Cool as all hell.

And Maka had looked seething for some reason, as if either his lie or the girl-pack were flicking an internal switch that said _'Maka-Chop-the-fuck-out-of-the-nearest-albino-Deat h-Scythe.' _As he was wary of a book to the skull, he didn't notice the way the girls had remained. Looking at his appearance. Waiting.

And then going ballistic.

Taking on pre-Kishin? No sweat.

Black blood? Bring it on.

A demon inside the mind? Please.

Witches with a personal vendetta? Cinch.

Gopher? Eyes-closed.

Giriko? With one hand behind his back.

Noah? Child's play.

Crona? Piece of cake.

_Asura?_ Fine.

But a horde of teenage girls with crushes? Shit, he was out.

So Soul had done the gallant thing, which was ensure Maka was not going to be crushed by the oncoming wave, and then somehow magically disappear. All he had to do was wait for the scent to die down, let those girls get lost somewhere in Shibusen, and then he'd magically pop up back at the party and earn a few Maka-Chops.

He sighed, sliding down the bench until he was on the floor. _Damn, this is so uncool_. All he'd wanted to do was go to the party, ditch, and then have everything go smoothly. Hell, Maka looked pretty great tonight – with a short white dress that played off the monochrome of his own outfit – so he would have probably even danced with her if she'd asked. Only if she'd asked though; he wouldn't man up and ask her himself because that would be uncool if she turned him down. Unlikely that she would, but completely uncool if she did.

But who cared about his plan, these girls had taken it and thrown it out the proverbial freakin' window.

After he ensured that he wouldn't be seen, he slunk out of the doorway. With silent steps he made his way back up to the ballroom in Shibusen's top left tower, trying not to be seen. Not easy with ostentatious white hair, but he managed. Once he was successfully in the room, he kept to the walls until he could spot his meister. Where was she?

Hanging out with Liz and Patti? No, she wasn't there. Liz was dancing with Kid – oh, he was getting shit for that later, Soul thought, as payback for forgetting about the speech – and Patti had the arm of some other guy while they spun in energetic circles.

Talking to Tsubaki, maybe? Again, a dead end. Tsubaki was chatting to Nygus while Sid observed Black*Star's funnel-like method of consuming party food.

He couldn't see her with any of their other friends, either. It appeared that she had simply melted into the shadows in his absence. Maybe she'd gotten really mad at him and left? He pondered this, walking over to the great doors leading to the balcony. Gently and quietly he let himself out, looking around, but Maka wasn't out here either. That figured. This was his usual haunt in any kind of formal occasion at Shibusen, not hers. She wouldn't be here if she was avoiding people. Hopefully she hadn't got so pissed that she'd left. That would just make his night – she'd probably lock him out to sleep in the stairwell of their apartment complex or something equally extreme. Not like he couldn't pick a lock, but he wouldn't make things worse.

"Hey, Soul! What are you doing out here, man? Party's inside!"

He blinked, looking up. It was Kilik Rung, his grin wide enough to show that _someone_ had been drinking a little bit too much champagne. Either that or the punch had been spiked. Oh, how he hoped it was the latter. Sid would go off his rocker and that always meant a good show.

He straightened his tie. "Meh. I'm fine away from all the noise. It's so loud in there, you know?"

"I hear that," Kilik said, and all of a sudden his sobriety was back. Maybe Soul had just imagined the alcoholic influence. The shaman meister had a big personality, after all. "Fire and Thunder didn't like all the noise much. They're enjoying dancing though. Ran off somewhere on the dance floor a little while ago."

"You're so responsible, looking after those kids in a big party like this. Glad to see you're supervising their safety," he grinned sarcastically. Kilik returned the expression once again.

They remained in companionable silence for a minute, looking out at Death City, before Kilik spoke up once again. "I'm surprised you're this cool with it."

"I'm cool with everything. What're you talking about?"

"Oh, you know. The Maka thing. I just assumed you'd be a little pissy about it and that's why you were outside."

"Huh?" _What Maka thing? Great, she must be really mad at me if Kilik noticed. He probably thinks we're having a fight or something and that I'm angry at her, too._

The meister looked at him knowingly. "Look, Soul. I'm not an idiot – okay, so I'm not the brightest colour in the pencil box," he acknowledged at the Death Scythe's face, "but I can tell in situations like this. It's like Harvar and Jackie."

"What is?"

"Come on, man. I get it, chill."

_What the hell is he talking about? _Soul thought with a wrinkled brow. _What do Harvar and Jackie have to do with my fight with Maka? Did Harvar get in shit with her? They aren't even partners! And what does he _"get"_, anyway?_

Soul cleared his throat. "I don't think we're on the same page here, Kilik. What the hell are you on about?"

Kilik rolled his eyes. "Fine. Be like that. But I can tell you have the hots for Maka, Soul. I don't know why you're tryna' cover it up."

"I'm not trying to cover – wait _what?_"

"You heard me," the other boy said, laughing at the change in Soul's colouring. "Don't try to deny it, man. Anyway, I can understand why you're moping out here when she's off dancing with that guy. Still, you should come enjoy the party. Lord Death wants to talk to you, anyway."

"Kid can wait. What makes you think I like Maka? Dude, she's just my meister! What the hell!"

A shrug was the response. "Be difficult all you want. You're just denying the obvious."

"There _is _no obvious! We're just friends, okay, why would you think differently – DANCING WITH WHO?" Soul suddenly yelled mid-sentence, making Kilik jump. A second later he was angrily stomping away from the shaman meister, throwing open the balcony doors and scanning the dance floor for Maka.

As the Death Scythe disappeared in a sudden cloud of rage, Kilik allowed himself to lean over the railing smugly. "_That's_ what makes me think different, bro."

* * *

She hadn't hit him very hard. She must really be happy tonight. When she'd finished dancing with that other guy, some prick in Class Crescent-Moon with them, she'd made her way over to the tables to talk to Tsubaki. Soul had waited until she was promptly done before walking silently up behind her. She'd sat down at a table with Tsubaki's water bottle, taking a quick drink, and had been so immersed in the atmosphere that she didn't even notice him sitting down until he nudged her and asked for a sip.

"Soul?"

He grinned half-heartedly. "No, I'm just someone else that looks exactly like Soul, by coincidence."

"That's happened before," she reminded him, but to his surprise she was still smiling when she saw him. "Where have you been moping? I figured you'd ditch as soon as you could. I thought you'd gone home, actually."

"And leave you here?" Before she could reply, he threw his hands up. "I was running for my life! Seriously, I've been hiding in classrooms for the last half an hour. Which you did so much to prevent, by the way, thanks for your help."

She laughed. Actually laughed, with no malice or scorn whatsoever. _Had_ the punch been spiked? Or had she just really enjoyed dancing with that other guy? Soul's gut twisted at that possibility. _I bet she didn't even notice I was gone. Or care,_ he thought morosely.

"If you were fighting evil, maybe I would have saved your sorry ass. But a group of girls? I think you might be losing your touch, Mr. Death Scythe," Maka said, taking the water-bottle back off of him. "That's Tsubaki's, don't scull it."

"Girls are worse, Maka!" he whined to his meister, slumping onto the table. "I can't _hit_ girls – that's just uncool."

"You punched an old lady once –"

"– We don't talk about that."

They lapsed into a companionable silence for a moment, her taking in the sights of the room dressed and decorated for celebration and him taking in the sight of her. Had there been any foundation in Kilik's words? Surely not – after all, hadn't Kilik suggested they _jump_ off the moon because there was water under it to land in? The shaman meister wasn't a genius, that was for sure.

But when Soul had seen Maka dancing with that other guy . . .

Nope. It was impossible. He didn't like Maka. He just thought she looked really nice in her dress tonight. He just didn't like her dancing with other people, other weapons, other _males_. He just held her hand a lot, lived with her, occasionally hugged her when she was in a bad move, protected her, cared for her, cooked dinner for her three nights a week – _completely platonic, right?_

" . . . Are you going to play tonight?"

He looked up at her words, leaving his mind behind in its puzzled state. "Wasn't planning on it. Then again, I'll probably be forced to, knowing Kid – _'Lord Death'_, whatever. He's gonna be called Kid for the next five hundred years if I've got any say in it, symmetrical bastard," he added at her expression.

"It's just a speech, Soul, stop over-reacting over it."

"I will when he stops re-arranging the salt and pepper stand when we eat out as a group. Or when you stop hitting me with books."

She grinned. "I can't stop, because you're always an idiot."

" . . . Thanks."

Her smile stayed, softening slightly as she looked back at the dancers. Kid and Liz were somewhere out there. Patti still had the guy she'd started with – _he must have good arm strength,_ Soul mused – and Black*Star had surprisingly asked Tsubaki to "dance."

Not that _that_ was dancing, but the thought was there. All of their friends were out with their partners, or they'd picked a new one for the evening. Soul looked out at the crush of bodies one last time before sighing and shrugging. He thought of what Kilik said before forcefully suppressing it. _Ah, what the hell._

"Hey Maka, you wanna dance?"

* * *

"And now, the Last Death Scythe will make a speech as a survivor of the final battle against Asura," Kid said to a smattering of applause, having just given a speech himself.

Soul made sure to 'accidentally' kick Kid in the ankle on the way up the steps, murmuring out an apology in the form of, "I have a _name_, you know" before he was up at that stupid microphone, looking out at a sea of faces. There were the girls who had chased him. The teachers who had watched the moon from a distance, or been up there fighting as hard as they could. The resonance team that formed the other half of Spartoi – Kim and Ox too close together to not be suspicious, Jackie looking at Harvar's back. Liz and Patti, who smiled at the reaper as he sat down and then gave him the thumbs-up sign. Tsubaki, who held the arm of Black*Star, both of them looking up at him with smiles.

And Maka, who still had flushed cheeks from when he'd asked her to dance, and when she'd accepted. Who'd watched Crona get stuck on the moon, who'd cried her heart out, who'd matched soul wavelengths with him so many times and who'd given him courage.

And he started to speak easily, not even needing to look down at the paper copy of the words he was reciting.

"A whole year. It's been a whole year since we were up on the moon. 365 days. We've been through the memorials, the celebrations, the sadness and the happiness. We've cried, we've been broken; we've picked up the pieces and moved on. Some have left. More have joined. All in one year.

"And yet, we still don't talk about it. Sure, there have been reports on what happened up there, the way Asura was sealed away. We've discussed the theories on the insanity suppression, we've wondered how strong that Black Blood is, and we've complained because the nights are so much darker now and it's impossible to see a foot in front of our face. All of the trivial things, the little words and the big stories have been told. But did we ever stop and think about what was going on up there? It's hard to imagine, I know. Sometimes I can't tell whether it all happened. We've all heard the great stories about how Maka got sucked inside the Kishin. How Black*Star landed blows strong enough to defeat a God. How Kid – Death the Kid, his real name – connected the lines of Sanzu in his hair and became perfectly symmetrical, using power we could only dream of. I'm not saying that none of that happened or should have been talked about. All of that was real.

"But what about the things we didn't stop to think about? There was another person up there. One who didn't come back, who won't ever come back. We lost our sanity on the moon, we lost our comrades on the moon. And we lost one of our best friends. Someone so dedicated to protecting Death City, protecting the world, that they made the ultimate sacrifice and sealed themselves away with Asura, never to come home. Crona never left that place. Still hasn't."

The crowd was deathly silent. A few people had started to hold hands. He could see clearly, too, the way Tsubaki pressed close to Black*Star. The way Maka's eyes were wide and wet as she looked up at him, and as he looked straight back at her. Stein was watching with surprise from the corner, Death Scythe stiff in his seat as he listened, Marie with shining eyes and her hand clenched in her husband's. Sid and Nygus did not move, watching and taking in all that was said.

He continued. "The former Shinigami fell. Crona fell. Many brave weapons and meisters fell, and I know each one of them was cared about by _somebody _here. Allegiances were made and everyone was pushed to the limit. The 'Death Scythe' became a mere legend, ending with the few you see on stage here tonight. Everything was so enormous, so huge, that we thought we'd never be able to deal with any of it.

"And yet we did. One year later, we stand here with our heads bowed, remembering someone close, thanking someone as far away as anyone can be. A lot changed in this year, and a lot is still changing; but one thing won't. We won't ever forget. None of us who were up there, not one, will forget what happened in those last minutes when the Black Blood took over the moon and Crona made the ultimate sacrifice. None of you from the ground will forget what you saw, and what you felt. The former Lord Death will never become a mere memory, not in our souls.

"So next year, when some more are gone and some more have come, this will be just as hard as it was today, as it was one year ago. We won't forget. Ever. And after everything that's happened, I don't think any of us would want to. And I may be the Last Death Scythe, but that doesn't mean there won't be another day when someone else is standing on stage here, talking about that day, saying how they remember."

He looked at Maka again, another face among a sea of others. Most had wet eyes now. Keeping eye contact with her, he gave a grin. "So don't forget. Show the world what Shinigami did. What Crona did. What everyone did. Show them your courage."

And then he left the stage, ignoring the seconds of silence before the thunderous applause began. _There_, he thought with a slight smile. _How was that for a speech?_

* * *

*** - Soul went back to using 'Evans' in the last chapter. **

**I love Kilik so much as a character. I mean, he does twice the work to make try to both of the Pots Death Scythes (just like Kid does), and he's just a mix of skill, strength, gallantry and stupidity. Ah, Kilik, you needed more chapters, bro. Ox/Kim and Jackie/Harvar. We ship it. **


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/N: **__I do not own Soul Eater or Falling in Reverse's 'The Drug In Me Is You.'_

**Thanks: ** .Evans, Infinite Freedom, Soultaker2018, fortheking0fblood, Café.nina, waytheballbounces (_again_), fireprooflawyer (_again_), Killing Kunoichi (_you practically have own private spot in my 'thanks' list because you're my number one supporter, woo!) and _Tenbris _for favouriting/following/reviewing. 20 reviews, sweet! Thanks!_

Tenbris_ has a SoMa one-shot collection up at the moment too called _'Staccato.' _It's really well written (puts me to shame a little, I'll admit), so go check it out! _

_Thank you for your support so far everyone, and enjoy. _

* * *

**TEN – CAN'T YOU SEE**

_If we are born to die  
And we all die to live,  
Then what's the point of living life  
If it just contradicts?  
_- _"The Drug In Me Is You", _Falling in Reverse.

* * *

Soul stared down at the blank paper before him, a scowl on his face. A pen lay mockingly over the clean lined sheet, daring him to write something, anything. Beside this traitorous piece of paper and pen was the source of all of his troubles – Stein's stupid written assignment. Across the top was printed one question, their subject of writing:

**_What do you live for?_**

_Really_, Soul thought irritably as he stared down at his lack of process, _what's the point of this crap anyway? _The task had nothing to do with their current unit of work –_ Wavelength Interpretation _– or anything else. It wouldn't help him to better his education, it wouldn't keep him alive out on the battlefield, and it _certainly _wouldn't stop his meister Chopping him on the head every time he so much as breathed too loud. If this was the case, then why the hell was he being forced to write the damn paper?

More importantly, why was it so _hard?_

The question, although irrelevant, should have been relatively simple. It should have been something that Soul could easily sit down and answer, keeping just inside the word limit because over-excelling was uncool. That was what he usually did for assignments. While lazy and unwilling to participate, he'd admit, he wasn't stupid. If he'd tried, he'd probably be doing very well in Stein's classes. But being the cool guy he was, he spent his classes sleeping and bugging his meister, rather than taking copious notes. He'd normally get this assignment done in no time.

So why couldn't he?

He couldn't answer either of his own questions, let alone Stein's. Soul let out an irritated growl and, in a fit of spontaneous anger, seized the offending sheet of blank paper. Screwing it up between his hands, he proceeded to throw the ball across the room. It disappeared out of sight under his bed and he stretched his arms, yawning. The stupid assignment could wait – he needed a drink and some food, pronto.

As Soul emerged from his bedroom, his eyes fell on his meister. She was stretched out across the couch with a grin on her face, reading something or other. It must have been a new book, because he didn't recognise it as one that had connected with his cranium yet.

"How's the paper going?" she asked without removing her nose from the pages.

He scratched the back of his head, shrugging. "You know. The usual."

"In other words, you haven't started it."

"Yeah, pretty much."

He made his way over to the fridge and toed it open, searching for the milk carton. The sound of Maka bookmarking her page and laying the book aside made him sigh in annoyance – she was about to go into full lecture-mode, he knew it. For some reason, she was on his ass about doing this one particular paper, and she wasn't letting him rest until he'd completed it.

"Soul, you seriously need to get this done," she said, standing slowly. He rolled his eyes. "It's contributing to our overall results this term and it's due . . ."

" . . . In a week," he supplied, moving past her to take possession of the couch. "And how far away is a week? Oh yeah," he said sarcastically, "it's a _whole week away._"

"Don't be an idiot," she huffed, hands on her hips and looking down at him. "You're just slacking off, aren't you? I need you to actually do this assignment, because our grades are shared, and you'll bring down my average."

He snorted. "I'm so glad you're concerned for my academic benefit. It's touching."

Maka punched him in the arm. "Ugh, you have no consideration for anyone but yourself, Soul!" She moved to snatch back her book, but he put his hand on it to keep it down. It was no use providing her with a weapon while she was so close to him. That was like _asking_ to be Maka-Chopped.

"For your information, I've been trying to write this damn thing for the last hour," he said in a low voice, making her pause in her advances. "I just have no idea how to answer the stupid shit."

She raised an eyebrow. "It isn't _that_ hard, is it? I mean, you don't even have to research anything! I did mine in an hour flat." She still sounded pissed.

"That's because you excel at everything," he said curtly, taking a sip from the milk carton and missing her blush. "And it may be easy for you, but I can't figure out what I should write."

Maka looked perplexed. "Doesn't everyone already know the answer to the question?"

"Honestly," he blew out all of his breath in a sigh, "I really don't."

Colour rose in her face and suddenly she was facing slightly away from him. "How can you not know?" Her arms crossed instinctively, and he got the vague feeling that his words had pissed her off somehow. "Are you stupid or something?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me!" She stepped forwards, glaring down. "How can you not have a reason for living?" Her volume rose at his incredulous expression. Soon they would be in an all-out shouting match. "You just aren't trying, like always! I mean, everyone lives for something!"

"We aren't all like you, you know!" he said in an equally loud voice. If she wanted to fight, so be it. He was already feeling shitty; she was just stoking the proverbial fire. "We don't all think about this shit all the time! In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly fucking following in my parents' footsteps, am I? I'm not trying to be better than my mother – hell, the only thing dangerous about her were her words!"

"Shut up!" she screeched back, diving for the book, which he moved out of the way once more. This caused him to stand. They were in each other's faces, tempers high, anger brewing.

"Why should I? It's true! You've got the rest of your life completely planned around your mother's, _good for you!_ It's not my fault you're a control freak who over-analyses everything!"

"Oh yeah?" she replied shortly and viciously. "Well it isn't _my _fault your parents didn't hug you enough as a kid! Don't project your stupid childhood screw-ups on me, Soul Eater _Evans_." She sneered out the last word.

He faltered, took a step back. Maka didn't know that much about his childhood; the constant disappointment he caused, the coldness of his father's eyes, the preferential treatment given to Wes. "I can't believe you'd say that. That's low, even for you."

"Even for me?" She didn't even pause. "You're the jerk who always points out everyone else's flaws! You know what? Maybe that's why you can't do the assignment task! Maybe you just don't have an answer, Soul!"

Soul paled instantly as he took in her words. _Maybe you just don't have an answer._ "Well then," he bit out, and his voice sounded savage and angry even to his own ears, "if I don't have a reason to _live_, maybe I just won't bother. Will that make you happy, or would you just prefer me to go throw myself off of the nearest building?"

Before she could answer, he turned and seized up his keys from the kitchen bench. "Don't bother waiting up. If you get it your way, I won't come back. Hell, maybe you can wear that black dress again at the funeral." He threw the words over his shoulder, slamming the door loudly behind him.

* * *

The needle inched past one-hundred-and-forty as he revved the bike handle harder. Flicking back his wrist, he allowed his cycle's engine to accelerate, pushing him forward through the empty streets with alarming speed. All he wanted to do was drive, drive _fast,_ away from her and her stupid words - !

Because really, what the Hell did she know? Maka was a genius (ask anyone), and she'd figured out her reason to grow stronger, to persist, many a year ago. Sure, her ideas about living had changed a little during their partnership – he'd been sliced open by Crona, she'd taken down the Kishin, but whatever. The point was, she knew exactly why she lived, what her life's purpose was and how she could achieve her next goal.

He really didn't. If he was being honest with himself, the only reason he'd ever really tried to do anything was for Maka's sake. It was his job as a weapon to keep her alive and happy, ready to take down the enemy and prepared for battle. Anything that didn't concern his meister or his friends, or the good of Death City, really wasn't in his best interests. He hadn't tried as a kid because trying earned him disapproval and comparisons to Wes. He hadn't tried on Shibusen's orientation day, because he had been under the belief that there was no meister waiting for him. However, since that fateful day when she waltzed on into his life and kicked his ass, he'd started to try. At first just a little, to keep her there and stop her from yelling at him with her high-pitched annoying voice. After that it had been a bit more, as he started to grow fond of her. The amount he tried increased steadily in reaction to his feelings for her – a sense of protection, a sense of familiarity, accepting that she and the rest of Spartoi were his family, falling in love with her.

_"Shit," _he hissed as he swerved out of the way of a street vendor's cart. He hadn't been paying attention to the road and had nearly crashed out as a result. The wood of the cart came within a hairs-breadth from scratching his Road King's paint, but he'd managed to dodge the obstacle. With a sigh and a groan, Soul gently let his wrist relieve its tension. If he wrecked on the bike now, that'd _really _make his life.

_Oh yeah, what life?_ He bitterly remembered Maka's insults. While Soul didn't know what he lived for, he _did_ know he had some kind of purpose. The only problem he had with writing his essay was the fact that he was a massive cynic.

_After all, we're born to die, right? _Soul grinned slightly. That needed to be a song lyric. _Still_.

If he had to be brutally honest, he didn't want to think about why he was alive. He just wanted to enjoy the limited time he had. He was a weapon, he had a meister, and together they were going to take out evil until one of them died. Maka would probably carry on when he died, as he'd obviously go first.

The average life expectancy for a weapon was anywhere between twenty and forty years, due to the missions they took. Soul had come _very _close to dying on a fair few occasions. For some reason, his life kept being preserved. He didn't know why, but something was telling him that the moment he questioned it, it'd be _that time_. The time when he didn't make a recovery from an injury.

And then there'd be no more Maka. No more resonance. And that, to him, sounded like the most accurate version of 'Hell' he could picture.

Besides, if he didn't have her, who would be there to argue with?

_Maybe that's my reason for living, _he thought with a shadow of a grin. _Because _someone's _gotta' make fun of her chest size. _

With another sigh, bringing his count to twenty million, he turned the bike's handlebars around. It was time to go home.

* * *

Maka buried her face in her pillow as her bedroom door opened, allowing a wedge of yellow light to slant across her face.

She'd been on the verge of sleep when Soul had returned home, and was glad of her position in bed so that she didn't have to face him. The things she'd said had been awful, no matter how badly he'd taunted her. If she weren't so proud, she would have followed him and apologized. However, she was Maka Albarn, so she chose to sit on the couch, cry a bit, and then stew over her angry emotions instead. He just elicited these kinds of emotions in her – fury, hurt, love, all of it. She liked to express it in Chops instead of words; although, Soul definitely didn't pick up on 'love' through book-to-the-head incidents. That was her secret.

Now she tried to squint against the onslaught of illumination as the door opened wider. A silhouette blocked the obtrusive light a moment later, and the door shut quietly behind him. She didn't know what he was doing in her room at this time of night, but she was starting to get too tired to care. Almost too tired, anyway – she was a teenage girl, after all.

"Soul?" she half-moaned, still letting her eyes readjust. A quiet grunt was her only reply as her weapon approached. The bed sheets ruffled a little and the mattress sunk down as he climbed into her double-bed (thank Death she'd bought a bigger one last month). "What the Hell are you doing?"

"'M' going to sleep," he replied through a yawn, his back to her. As an almost afterthought he breathed out, "Sorry."

She didn't reply, but her hand moved of its own will across the sheets to find his. After a moment of searching her fingers found his and she laced them together with a sigh. "You know I'm going to Chop you in the morning."

"Maybe I'll go into a coma while I sleep and avoid it," he wearily chuckled, his hand tightening over hers for a moment. "Goodnight, Maka."

"Night, Soul."

They fell asleep like that, hands clasped together like kids, and Maka's finished paper for Stein's class sat on the desk nearby as a witness. The paper explaining why she lived – to grow stronger for her partner, for Soul.

* * *

**Lame lame lame lame lame lame lame.**

**I actually updated within 2-3 days this time. The next may be a bit late as I've got speeches and tests coming up, but I'm estimating Tuesday to Wednesday. Okay, bye. **


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/N: **__I do not own Soul Eater or 'What Sarah Said' by Death Cab For Cutie. This song is the most accurate portrayal of waiting for the news on a loved-one's life or death in the waiting room of a hospital I have ever heard or read. The lyrics are just mind-blowing. There's even demonic piano at the end, like Soul would play. Listen to it. _

_26 reviews? 38 favourites and 40 follows in 10 chapters? __**40? **__This is amazing. You're all amazing. Thank you so much. _

**_Thanks to:_**DauntlessSoul, ShadowMaster7, .Evans (_whose name I failed at typing last chapter, sorry!)_, mermain123, PandaMoeniam, CottonCoccon, Tenbris (_again, thank you!_), waytheballbounces _(again, thanks!), and _Killing Kunoichi _(as always, you lovely human being)._ _Your reviewing/favouriting/following means a lot, thank you for enjoying these stories!_

_This chapter is dedicated to _fireprooflawyer_, because '_word-weaving badass_' is the greatest compliment I've ever gotten. Ever. _

_Enjoy._

* * *

**ELEVEN – NO COMFORT**

_Because there's no comfort in the waiting room.  
Just nervous paces,  
Bracing for bad news.  
Then the nurse comes round,  
And everyone lifts their head.  
But I'm thinking of what Sarah said:_

_Love is watching someone die._

_So who's going to watch you die?_

_- 'What Sarah Said'_, Death Cab For Cutie.

* * *

He stared at his shoes, the clock on the wall, the stack of year-old magazines on the table and back to his shoes again. He should have changed them, should have gone back to the hotel to clean up before coming back. He should have turned his phone charger off at the wall this morning. He should have submitted Sid's essay before leaving for the mission instead of waiting until afterwards. He should have done his job and protected his meister.

Should have, could have, would have. Didn't.

As his eyes flicked away from the red-crusted shoes to the clock once again, he heard someone shuffle awkwardly in their chair a little ways down from him. Soul sighed, tapping his own foot as he leant against the white-washed wall. He couldn't sit down; if he did, he might throw up. No, he'd definitely throw up.

Why was he here?

Usually when they got hurt, even if it was really bad, they would just go to Stein or Nygus to stitch them up. The two were medical experts, and they could make anyone fit and healthy again. That was always their plan – don't screw up, but if you do, go to Shibusen. Go to the Dispensary and get help. If they always went to Shibusen, if they always got the help they needed, why the Hell weren't they _there? _Why were they _here,_ at the Royal Surrey County Hospital?

Because he'd fucked up badly, and there was no way they'd be able to get back from _England_ before she . . .

He'd fucked up.

Soul scuffed his shoe angrily against the squeaky floor of the hospital, trying to keep his breathing calm. He'd already lost it once in here, when they said he couldn't follow Maka. At Shibusen it was different; the teachers and doctors there understood the bond between a meister and weapon, and they usually knew Soul or Maka personally. Most of the time, both. He'd never been kept from her like this. But now he was stuck sitting in a little white waiting room with about ten other people for the news that he desperately wanted to hear. Or the news that he couldn't bear to hear.

A television droned to his left, an MTV program trying unsuccessfully to cover up the blanket of thinly-disguised despair that settled over its companions in the small space. He turned away from it. Maka liked the song that was playing right now. She sang it all the time in the apartment, just to annoy him because she knew he hated it - !

He shifted his focus to his shoes and this time his eyes stayed there.

"Daddy, why's he dressed funny?" Soul perked his head up at the youthful boy's voice. The kid was sitting on the ground slightly to his left, playing with those over-used and somewhat sinister looking toys one always sees in a waiting room. They were too ostentatiously bright for the atmosphere of the place; and he knew that those little playthings had seen their fair share of tears and horrified faces. After all, this was the room where people came to say goodbye.

The man who the toddler was speaking to, his father, looked down at the kid with a stressed face. Soul could see many wrinkles around his eyes that looked as if they had only been made recently, and he gripped the kid's hand tightly in his own, trying to keep a sane appearance. He was waiting for someone in this room, too. But he had a kid to try and act cool for, Soul realised. He would have had sympathy for the father, had all of his emotions not been occupied in channelling the highest amount of rage at himself possible.

The man swallowed before answering his son in a strong British accent, "I think he's been in an accident, Troye. Like Jordan."

The kid – Troye – had wide eyes. "Then why's he out here? Shouldn't the doctor men be helping him too?"

Soul coughed out a weary laugh, much to the father's surprise. Well, it would have been had the man not been so tired and stressed. "I'm not the one who got hurt, kid."

Troye's eyebrows knitted together. The expression reminded him of Maka. He felt sicker. "Why are you all red then, mister? Did you get into a fight or something?"

"You could say that." He stretched out his arm tiredly. It was sore – he'd had it sliced pretty well. The nurses had already wrapped it and put it in a sling. He was wearing the damn thing, but it hurt his shoulder something awful. "We were fighting a bad guy and we won."

"Then why are you here?"

Soul barely heard the father exclaim at his son's nosiness. His eyes darted quickly back down to his shoes. Why was he here? He'd been asking himself the exact same question. And the answer was that he'd _fucked up badly and now Maka was hurt_. Suddenly, his eyes felt mortifyingly wet. He blinked hastily, because he wasn't going to cry. She'd laugh her ass off if she knew he was out here snivelling like an idiot. She would be just fine.

He wasn't an idiot. He knew people died. They would die from injuries a lot less substantial than the one Maka had received.

_But when you're standing in a white room full of people waiting on death, _he thought savagely,_ optimism is a fucking necessity._

"Don't be sad, mister." The little boy was speaking to him again. He looked up morosely to find a pair of blue eyes on his face. They looked light and innocent, like Patti's often did. This kid shouldn't be in a waiting room. He should be out playing or something. That age – that was too young to hear of death. Not when you were this close. "I'm sure your friend will be fine!"

He nodded slowly, giving a weak attempt at a smile. "I know she will. She's strong like that."

Troye nodded excitedly. "Same as my sister Jordan! I told Daddy not to be frowny, because Jordy is tough. She stood on a rock last week and she was fine! A little car isn't going to hurt my big sister!"

_Oh, Death._ Soul's eyes snapped between the kid's optimistic face and the father's sunken one. At Troye's words, he'd put his face into his hands. His kid, his freaking kid, had been hit by a car. Someone he loved that much, someone he was sworn to protect at all costs, was in the surgery at the same time as Maka was. Jesus, this man had the same sort of oath of devotion that Soul had to Maka.

He shot the older man a look and knew that he saw it, because his shoulders slumped further. In that one glance, he'd conveyed as much as he could. _We fucked up, didn't we?_

The sound of quick footsteps made his head lift swiftly. Everyone else in the room gave a similar motion, their eyes training almost hungrily on the nurse. She looked haggard and stressed, holding a clipboard tightly with downturned eyes. Her expression brought no comfort to the already-strung-out waiters. She scanned the paper on the board for a moment, picking out a name, before her mouth opened. In her tiny intake of breath, Soul felt his heart stop.

Not now, not her. No. He wouldn't allow it. Not now, not her. Not now. Not her.

" . . . Sylvester?"

Troye's eyes widened and his father went stiff as a board. In one quick motion he stood, grasping his son's hand with a working jaw. At the nurse's command to 'follow me, please', he hastily picked up his little boy and began to walk after the woman.

"Bye, mister," the kid said over the father's shoulder. Soul could only watch him go with hooded eyes, his hand fisting in his jacket. That little boy was not going with the nurse to see his sister or to hear good news. He was going into a room where his innocence would be stripped away in one quick blow. Like ripping off a band-aid.

And it had been so close to being him. What if they had called his name? What if they'd shepherded him away from the other mourners to tell him that it was over, she was . . . ?

He didn't know how long he dwelt on it, but it must have been a long time. One by one, the occupants of the room filtered out, to hear the best or worst words of their lifetime. It was only him left by the time he snapped his head back up, and his shoulders slumped in despair. He was just lucky that the chair was close enough for him to fall into, his head rolling down into his palms as he began to tug at his hair. How long were they going to keep him here? Not knowing, waiting, looking at everything and anything without focussing too long because it hurt too much? He couldn't take it; he had to see her. He couldn't let her become like that older sister because of his own mistake. He couldn't become that father, seeing all of his hopes disappear in one nurse's stern expression. Not Maka. Not his meister, not his partner, not his best friend, not his _Maka._

" – Come on. You need to follow me, son," the lady said gently, resting a hand on his arm. Soul jumped in surprise, letting his hands fall from his hair. There was a nurse standing above him, her expression calm and sympathetic. "Let's go."

He stood almost numbly, his heart hammering in his throat. If this was it, if this was the last moment in his life – for she was his life, he'd never kid himself into thinking otherwise for a second – he needed a little longer to process it. She was strong; she'd fought Giriko, Crona, Arachne, Medusa. She could do this. She could survive for him. Right?

A white door with a placard in it. The lady turned the handle slowly, too slowly, as if prolonging his horrid fate, and he swallowed loosely. She needed to let him in, he had to know now - !

"She's not awake, but she will be in about an hour once the drugs wear off. Keep in mind that she's stiff and sore, and she might not be very lucid once she wakes. By the looks of things, she'll make a full recovery. Her blood is . . . odd. But we don't need to test it, given your weapon and meister standing. She will be okay." The words went in one ear and lodged there, not really making it to his brain. He couldn't fathom it, couldn't comprehend it. Fine.

Fine.

But he'd fucked up. How was she fine? That little girl hadn't been fine. Maka was. She was . . . she was . . .

He felt his Blood starting to dilute with madness and closed his eyes once quickly. The last thing he needed was his Oni right now. "Thank you," he breathed roughly to the woman beside him, and she nodded once.

"I'll be back here in two hours. Call one of the nurses once she wakes by pressing this button."

"Yes."

She was fine.

He was still telling himself this slowly when she woke up.

Uncool.

* * *

It hurt, it all hurt, it _hurt! _Maka suppressed a squeak as she tried to move something. Her eyelids felt sticky. Could she even lift them up off of her actual eyeballs? It seemed like a marathon effort to even try, but she had to.

One, two, THREE! It felt like the skin was peeled away, but she managed it. The first thing she saw was white. A white ceiling. What in Death's name . . . ?

Feeling was hard to grasp, but she could slowly feel the numbness of Novocaine leaving her hands and feet. Well, it left one hand at least. The other felt as if it were wrapped in something tight, some kind of pressure. She looked down at it weakly. There _was_ something over it. A hand. Holding hers tightly. She let her gaze travel along the hand to the wrist and then the arm, following it until she could see its owner.

It was him. Of course it was him. She felt her lips twitch painfully into a smile at the sight of Soul, still bloody and stressed and wide-eyed as he looked down at her. She could see his lips moving and hear the sound of his voice, but her mind was still too muddled to make sense of his words. He was saying something soothing, asking something, asking _her_ something, but she just couldn't make it out. The only thing she was sure of was the word he said every so often. Her name.

_"Maka."_

The sound of it was quite lovely in itself, and she let another smile grace her tired face. If he was here saying her name, it was okay. She may not know where she was or what was going on, but now his other hand was smoothing back her hair and he was still holding hers in his strong warm grip. She felt the warmth from that hand radiating through her whole body, and her eyes started to drift closed again. She saw him sit back, laughing out something wearily. It was probably a comment on her current weak state. She'd have to Chop him when she woke again, but right now sleep just felt so right . . .

She moved her hand so that her fingers laced through his, before letting her eyes flutter shut again. She could sleep. With him, she could sleep. Because she was fine, she was going to be fine. And he was here, watching the entire time. "Love you."

"What?"

"Night, Soul."

* * *

**I know that this may seem rather jumpy and sudden, but that was intentionally done as a representation of the state of Soul's mentality while all of this was going on. **

**I promise there will be a kiss in the next one. I haven't written many in, and if I were reading this I'd be waiting for one. I just like to write the more unseen side of their lives because we don't get the depth as readers of the manga of just how much their life links with death and fear. Also, the next will be from Maka's point of view because I write Soul so much. He's just more fun. Hope you enjoyed. **


	12. Chapter 12

_**A/N: **__I do not own Soul Eater or the song 'Turning Tables' by ADELE._

_SPOILERS for the MANGA, with mentions of individual chapter events as well as outcomes of battles and the END OF THE MANGA. _

_Anyway, as we're nearing the 13__th__ chapter, I think I'll do a few __**song request**__ one shots, if you like? Just put one in the reviews or PM me, whatever._

__CookiesRocks-2, Elli990, KhaiPi, Renting, TrueColours913, chealsealovesya1995, intomyshadow, Hikari x Takeru, , ShadowMaster7 (_again_), Professor Maka (_again)_, Café.nina (_again, I'm glad you like my Soul, he likes you too_), fireprooflawyer (_again, you're going to need your own section soon_), waytheballbounces (_again, thank you_), CottonCoccon (_again_,_you're so kind!_), _and of course _Tenbris, _for your support in favouriting/following/reviewing/being wonderful. _

_Enjoy._

* * *

**TWELVE –SAY GOODBYE  
**_  
So I won't,  
Let you,  
Close enough to hurt me.  
- 'Turning Tables'_, ADELE.

* * *

She knew the reason why she was like this. In the beginning, she had attributed it to her good-for-nothing papa and his ability to break every promise he ever started to make. He'd driven her mama away with his own foolishness, hadn't he? He'd broken apart Maka's family with his own selfish ways, and it had left her permanently scarred. She'd hated men because of him, she'd lost her faith in men because of him.

At least, that's what she'd told herself.

But at sixteen she'd decided to drop the act. When she was younger, her mother was everything to her. A shining star, she was. Just as bright, just as sharp, and just as remote. There was nothing Mama couldn't do. She was perfect – strong enough to wield a Death Scythe and strong enough to put up with his constant flirtatious ways. Maka had grown up wanting to be just like Mama because she was perfect. So, when she was twelve and her mother announced that she was leaving, it only stuck in her mind that this was the right thing to do.

After all, Mama could do no wrong, could she?

It was only later, much later, once she'd made friends with members of the opposite gender and seen the way that some of the other male elders in her life acted, that she realised maybe Papa wasn't the set model for every guy. Sure, they may all fall stupidly over themselves for a nice ass and a set of big breasts, but they didn't necessarily act on it. After all, Stein wasn't off chasing anything with a skirt while Marie was pregnant, was he?

Well, not unless he was trying to dissect them, but that was beside the point. Sid didn't let the appearance of women cloud his judgement in Battle Strategies, even if Nygus _was_ only wearing bandages for a shirt a lot of the time. Then again, she was pretty sure the two of them were doing _something_ together, so maybe he just waited until they were away from eyes to show his true appreciation for his knife-weapon partner.

Then there were her friends. There was Black*Star, who consistently perved on Tsubaki while she was bathing. But that was just his inner 'idiot' coming through. After all, it was _only _Tsubaki he acted in such a riotous and inappropriate way around. He didn't go into the girls' showers to watch them – which would be _super creepy,_ Maka thought as this idea came to her – it was always Tsubaki, and nobody else. Kid was the same way. This may or may not have been because he was a Death God, and therefore above the human vices and follies, but he'd never shown a side of himself that was anything _close_ to Maka's Papa. Well, not unless it was in the name of symmetry and it was regarding Liz and Patti's sizes.

These exceptions were likely just because all of her friends were _weirdos._

(Then again, there _was_ that little incident regarding Kid with Kim and Jackie, which had left Ox in the hospital wing for a week*. Kim hadn't spoken to him for a long time after he reacted to that. Kid hadn't been able to go near the Lightning Marshal meister for the same amount of time. _A misunderstanding,_ the Shinigami had protested, with Liz and Patti's support. Apparently Kim didn't see it that way, and neither did her obsessive suitor).

So, if not all men were like her Papa and she had evidence to support this theory, then why was she like this? Why was she so damaged?

It had to be . . . because of Mama?

Yes, at sixteen years of age, she'd finally accepted it. She was so against the idea of being close to a man, or close to anyone in general, because her Mama had left. She'd walked right out and left a great big hole in Maka's heart without a backwards glance. Every so often she'd send a little keepsake to try and patch up the wound, but it wouldn't do any good. Now that she'd lost someone so dear to her, she didn't want to let anyone close enough to touch her. If they did, she'd just feel it when they left.

Was that why she was in this situation now? With his arm resting against hers as they leaned against one of Shibusen's stone walls to eat lunch outside, she was questioning her own proximity issue. Because she obviously had one.

And because of it, Soul was starting to scare her.

"I'm going to go get a soda, want one?" he asked, breaking her out of her troubled thought train. She turned her head to look at him – only to see his face so close to hers that she fell back in surprise.

Soul raised one pale eyebrow at her odd response as he stood up, dusting off his jeans. "You've got the balance of a teaspoon sometimes, you know that?"

"I do not!" she protested, kicking out at him half-heartedly. "You . . . just surprised me, that's all!" Her face felt slightly hot. What the Hell was going on? "Shut up and go get your drink, will you?"

He considered her odd behaviour for a moment before shrugging. "Whatever. Try not to fall over your own feet while I'm gone – I don't want to miss it." He grinned, dodging another kick, before jamming his hands into his jacket pockets and setting off for the soda machine just inside the hallway. She watched until he'd disappeared around the corner, letting her breath out in a big huff.

She'd always been good at keeping people away. But not him. Somewhere, mixed in with his dark keyboard and Black Blood, his 'cool' posterior and ability to press her buttons to no end, he must have found something. Some sort of way to climb over the wall and just let himself in. It had started when they'd collected their first soul, and had slowly grown from that point. During their fight as Spartoi to retrieve Kid from the Book of Eibon, it had just slapped her in the face, and after he'd become the Last Death Scythe, he'd practically broken the wall from the inside.

She didn't even bother trying to keep him out anymore.

It had been hard to accept the fact that he'd gotten in and made her _trust _him, but harder to accept the fact that with trust came other emotions. Like the fact that she'd start to dream about white hair, or see red eyes right before she woke up. Or the way that she had to watch him now and take in all the little details about his appearance and mannerisms that she may have missed during the last three-and-a-bit years of their partnership. She wanted him to be near her now, and she wanted to be able to touch him. Hand-holding on missions was like a Godsend now – she took the opportunity whenever she could; without it seeming too obvious, of course.

And then when she talked to him, she somehow just got . . . stupider. Like she'd changed from herself into Black*Star in the time that it took to open her mouth. Maybe not to that extent – it wasn't like she just started screaming ostentatiously about her greatness – but it was still pretty bad. She'd stumble over her words, trip over her feelings and just make an overall mess of things.

So yes, it was pretty certain to her at this point with her intense academic prowess that she _might_ just have . . . romantic feelings towards him. That idiot.

But the bad thing was, she'd loved her Mama. Cherished her, idolised her. And then she'd left.

So, if she cared about Soul this much now and the Kishin was no longer a constant threat they needed to deal with, how long would it be until he left, too? How long would she have until he just packed up his things and told her that something was pulling him away? It would either be him falling for someone else – which was hard to stomach even as a _thought_ – or he would find out about how she felt and run for the hills.

Because according to him, she was boring and flat-chested and _"nobody would want a bossy girl like you, Maka."_

That son-of-a-bitch idiot. Why couldn't she give her trust and affection to someone kind and caring, someone who appreciated her and _didn't_ warrant a book-to-the-head on an average of once per two hours? She knew the answer was because she was slightly masochistic in the sense that butting heads with him made her feel good. But still, it would be easier if the person she'd fallen for thought she had any kind of appeal whatsoever.

The can landed in her lap and she blinked at it for a second, startled over this sudden apparent apparition. That was, until she felt her jacket twitch from contact and Soul slid back down the wall to his previous seat. She turned to him with a cocked eyebrow, but he was already opening his own soda and taking a swig of it. She watched the way his mouth fit onto the rim of the can, his lips parting so that he could let the liquid in. Then he swallowed and her eyes were glued to the rolling motion of his throat, the twitch of his Adam's Apple, as he finished his sip . . .

"Did you fall out of bed and bash your head into the dresser again this morning? You're acting really weird," Soul said. All tight-chested-ness aside, Maka growled and swatted at his arm.

"That was _one time,_" she whined, taking up her own can to drink from. "And I'm fine. I don't know what you're talking about. If any one of us is acting weirdly, it's you." She'd spoken those words ridiculously quickly. Maka could see from his face that he was not buying one single word of her bullshit, but he surprisingly let it go by just shrugging once more and continuing to eat his lunch.

Maybe he didn't care about her issue. Maybe it was because he was going to leave soon. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Not knowing was the worst thing.

She took another bite of her sandwich, chewing on the bread thoughtfully, and as she pondered the words came out without her permission. "When are you leaving, Soul?"

"Huh?" he spluttered on his Coke, coughing twice to try and get it out of his windpipe. He turned to Maka to see her with equally wide eyes, her mouth working. "Come again?"

"I . . . um, I mean for class. When are you leaving for class?"

"When class _starts?_ Seriously, what the Hell's up with you today? Are you mad at me for something?"

"No."

"Then you're _definitely _out of it today."

She screwed up her eyebrows. "What?"

"You're Maka Albarn. You're always mad at me about _something_, otherwise you just aren't you."

"Maybe because you're always an idiot over something or other?"

"That's hurtful."

"Deal with it."

He grinned. "There we go, that's the usual you."

"What, snappish and unrelenting?" she asked with a sudden air of gloom, and his smile dropped again. "Thanks for the confidence booster, Soul." She went back to her soda, noting that he'd gotten her lemonade. Just what she felt like, and she hadn't even asked him to get her one. How did he know her that well? How had he gotten this close to her without her doing anything to get him away? Her number one rule was _Keep men out, keep everyone out._

Now, because of him, she was a rule-breaker.**

"Hey." His tone was decidedly less bantering and more serious. "Maka, tell me what's wrong."

She didn't even try to convince him that nothing was wrong. Because he was too close already, and that meant that he was leaving soon. "I don't want to tell you."

"Why?"

"Because it's about you." _Shit! That wasn't meant to come out! No, no, he'll leave. Stop it, mouth, work with brain! _

He sighed, putting down his food and turning to her. They were sitting so close; she just wanted to be closer; this was all so hard. Why had her Mama done this to her? "I _knew _you were mad at me! What'd I do this time?"

"Nothing," she sighed, because it was true. It was all her. She was the problem. Of course she was. That was why her Mama had left, that was why Soul would leave. Who wants to fix a problem when you can just leave it behind?

"You're not making any sense - !"

And once again her mouth left her thoughts behind. "I'm mad at myself because of you, happy?"

He paused, and she just looked at the little crinkle in between his eyebrows, and the telltale downturn of his mouth that showed he was confused. He was so . . . endearing. All of him was. And she just wanted to be closer to him for a few moments before he packed up and left. If he was going to go, why wasn't she taking advantage of the time she had left with him?

Because that would mean time would run out, wouldn't it?

"No, _not _happy," he said roughly, grabbing her arm. She glanced at his red eyes, a little sigh escaping between her lips. Now she'd pissed him off. Great. "Can you just use, I don't know, _human ways _of describing your problem, instead of going all cryptic and shit?"

He'd leant in as he'd said this, and now he was right in front of her. At eye level. And her mouth betrayed her for the third time, but this time her body decided to join in too.

She moved slightly, twisting to face him, and in a quick motion, pressed her mouth against his. She didn't kiss him very heavily or expressly, because her body was freaking out and her brain was screaming, but it was enough to show him what she meant and enough to ruin her life.

Maka hastily rocked back, pushing on his shoulders to get him away from her. There. He'd crossed the final boundary by her doing, and now the wall was completely down. Now that that was out of the way, he could just pack up and leave, and she could put up a new wall, right?

"Maka . . . did you just . . .?"

" . . . So what? There you go, now you can leave in peace."

"I – wait, what? Where am I going?"

She didn't look up at him. "You tell me. You're the one that'll leave. Everyone does. What are you, an exception to the  
rule?"

"But you –"

" – I know you'll leave, Soul. That's just what happens when you care about someone - "

" – And I - "

" – because apparently, that's how life works. It's okay, just . . . I knew you were going to do it, so - "

" – Will you just - "

" – don't feel bad. I just wanted to get that done before you went, because I thought you'd probably go soon, and it would be nice to - "

" – SHUT UP FOR A SECOND!"

She caught her lip between her teeth mid-sentence, her eyes wide. He was staring at her, his hands clenched into fists, and he was breathing hard from yelling. Maka couldn't help turning towards him – she shouldn't look at him, but she wanted to get all of the last glimpses she could take.

"Right," he said, blowing out air wearily once he was sure he'd quietened her. "Leave it to you to over-complicate everything by incessantly yelling."

"I wasn't - "

"Okay, let's not start this again. You – don't talk." She stared at him, unconsciously obeying his instructions. "Right. Now sit still." She dropped her hands to her lap. "Close your eyes." She did. Whatever he was planning, she was too surprised by him still being here to disobey . . .

And that was when he kissed her, one of his hands resting lightly on her shoulder. She went rigid for a total of two seconds. _What is he doing, what am I – _And then finally her stupid mouth did something right! She kissed him back, her lips springing to life and her hand lifting from her lap to grab his arm. From her response he moved, his other hand coming up to rest on her waist as he cupped her cheek. She felt what almost seemed like a chuckle from against his mouth as she let her hands go up to wrap in his hair. It felt soft.

She was this close to him. And he wasn't running away.

When he broke off for air, she made their lips meet again. She didn't want to have him move, and after he joined back in easily, she decided maybe he wasn't going to be going anywhere any time soon either.

Well, that was until the door to the balcony swung open and their worst nightmare stepped out. "Maka, my darling, are you up here? Papa needs to speak to y – WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING WITH MY DAUGHTER YOU FUCKING OCTOPUS HEAD PIECE OF SHIT?!"

Maka didn't mind running this time as her hand grabbed Soul's, both of them out of there in a flash before any blades could come after them.

* * *

***-Reference to the manga, before Kid is going to the moon to see the witches and he's so impatient to leave that he bursts into Kim and Jackie's shower to try and help them bathe quicker. Funniest moment in the tail end of the manga. **

****-Can you name the episode of the anime where Maka says this to Soul? ("Now, because of you, I'm a rule breaker."). Episode number or title is fine. **

**I have such a dislike for Maka's mother. She just up and leaves her daughter and her meister duties to 'travel'? Real role model there. Happy Friday the 13th. Avoid black cats - they might transform into girls and try to smother you. **


	13. Chapter 13

_**A/N: **__I do not own Soul Eater or 'Enough For Now' by The Fray. _

_Thanks to_: Reedmanish, SigMcMuffin, White Aura Dragon, .papayova, MsPoisonIsley, fireprooflawyer _(again)_, Professor Maka _(again)_, "Guest" _(you said 'moar', here you go!) and _Tenbris,_ who is inspiring me more with each chapter. Favourites/follows/reviews are always appreciated. I'm nearly at 50 favourites now and I just can't believe the support I'm getting. Thanks so much. _

**_This chapter is dedicated to _****waytheballbounces****_ for your constant support through this series so far. Thank you. _**

* * *

**THIRTEEN – NEVER COULD DO**

_That's enough for now,  
I would have never left you broken.  
I would have held you.  
Things your father never could do.  
Words your father never told you.  
- 'Enough For Now', _The Fray.

* * *

_What was he even doing here?_ Soul sighed as he pulled his jacket up around his neck, trying to fight off the bitter cold of the evening. Really, he didn't want to be here. He'd had a long day already, his arm was sore because the mission they'd taken hadn't been executed very well, and he just wanted to go home and watch some _Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?_

Anyone who didn't find that show entertaining was _lying._

But no, instead of being on his nice comfortable couch watching his lame – yet highly entertaining – television shows, he was stuck here, out the front of this classy restaurant, with an achy arm, a cold nose and a bad temper. He kicked a rock out of his path before reluctantly shouldering open the door to the establishment. May as well get this stupid thing over and done with quickly, right?

He gave his name to the maitre d', pointedly ignoring the looks the balding prim man was giving to his outfit. Sure, this was a five-star joint, but he wasn't here to enjoy himself. He didn't even want to be here. Why the Hell should he then change out of his usual apparel and get all dressed up in one of those stupid suits just so he could tell the old man to _shove it, stop trying to use me as a method of communication with your daughter, you creepy pervert_?

"Right this way, sir," the overly pompous man said to Soul with a slight flick of the wrist. He led him through the rows of tables, already filled with classy-ass people wearing classy-ass clothes and sipping at their classy-ass wine as they discussed boring, classy-assed things. Soul looked away from them contemptuously; he was, by birth and by current standing as a Death Scythe, of a higher rank than any of the people here. Yet still they would probably take a glimpse at his jeans and leather jacket and think of him as someone being hired to fix a broken dishwasher or something. Upperclassmen irritated him to no end. They were all the same, no matter what. Being one of them was shitty, and being judged by one of them was just infuriating.

He was so caught up in his cloud of irritation with the fancy-pants rich people that he barely noticed the slowing of the maitre d'. The fat waiter bowed once – albeit rather unhappily – before bidding the young scythe a good evening and disappearing to the front of the restaurant, probably to pass judgement on any specks of dust resting on the ornate mantles.

It was only once he'd sighed, aggravated, to show just how annoyed he was at being summoned to this fancy place, that Soul deigned it appropriate to sit down. He slouched into the chair immediately, purposefully ignoring all of the urges to sit straight and formal. The rules from his childhood never left him in places like this – one of the reasons he avoided them when he could. "Well," he said after a pause of silence, looking at his summoner, "what do you want?"

"What, a nice place like this and you couldn't present yourself a bit better?" Death Scythe demanded, reaching for the half-glass of wine on his side of the table.

Soul grinned sharply in reply. "Please. Wouldn't want me upstaging you in appearance for your own one-man party, would we?"

Spirit looked ready to hit him upside the head, but restrained himself. He needed Soul here; for what reason, the younger weapon couldn't tell. It was probably something to do with blackmailing Maka into being civil with him again. _Yeah, right_, Soul thought. _One of these days, my compassion for you is going to wear out, old man. And when it does, I'll make her put you in a nursing home._ Spirit coughed once, taking another heartier swig of the alcohol, before he deemed himself able to speak without losing patience. "Thank you for coming." The words sounded chagrined just leaving his lips.

Soul was obviously milking Death Scythe's forced politeness. "Of course. It's no problem for me to take time out of my busy schedule, working with your daughter, to come and see you because you can't see her yourself. No trouble at all," he added sarcastically, deciding that he needed some water from the jug. He wasn't feeling the best, and not just because of his arm. It must have been the winter weather.

"Don't make this worse than it already is, kid," Spirit said shortly. "I didn't call you here because I wanted to speak with you, or because I wanted you to speak to Maka for me."

"Then why the Hell am I here? Because I have to cook dinner tonight and Maka will be pissed if I'm home late . . ."

"I'm here because today is the fourth anniversary of the day my wife – ex-wife – Maka's mother . . . left." Spirit seemed to fold in on himself slightly with his last words. It was odd to see him this solemn, instead of clutching to women or screaming to Soul's meister about how he loved her. He had to admit, he didn't like the change in the older man. It made him feel pity for the creep, and that was something he hated feeling in regard to this man. He felt it for Spirit far too much, this sense of sympathy. Sometimes he thought he was more charitable to the guy then Maka was.

Instead of delving any of this information, he simply said, "Well, that sucks for you, I guess."

"For me?" Death Scythe shook his head. "I love that woman more than anything else in the world, but I'm not upset for myself. I've had a long time to grieve over this." Again, there was that niggling sense of pity that Soul wished would just shut up. "It's her I'm worried about."

"Who, your ex-wife?" Soul asked. "I'm fairly sure she's fine, off adventuring instead of being weighed down by your cheating ass. What's this got to do with me? I've never even seen the lady."

"No," Spirit growled, "not her, you idiot punk!"

" 'Punk'? Who do you think you're talking to?"

"Who do _you _think _you're _talking to? I'm Lord Death's personal weapon, I'm above you!"

Soul scoffed. "More like you're _under_ everyone, you creep. I didn't come here just to listen to this shit and be insulted. I'm leaving."

"No, wait!" Spirit cried, reaching for the younger man's jacket sleeve as he made to go. "You can't! This isn't about either of us, or my ex-wife. This is about Maka!"

"I knew it," he said in a beat. "You want me to talk to her about how you're not such a bad father, it was all a misunderstanding, _Papa loves his little girl very much_."

Death Scythe shook his red head profusely, his fringe dancing. "You're wrong, this isn't about that either! Now would you just sit down, you're causing a scene."

Soul glimpsed the eyes on him and strongly resisted the urge to flip everyone at the restaurant off. "Whatever, I don't care." Still, he sat back down, letting his arms hit the table heavily for good measure. "You have one minute, and only because it's Maka. Start talking."

Spirit nodded. "Maka loved her mama very much; both of us did. After she left – well, my little girl always took my ex-wife's side, so she didn't see her papa in a very good light anymore. That wasn't all that changed, though; she became more reserved. She didn't laugh like she used to, and her smile went away. My beautiful Maka's smile . . ."

"Quit the snivelling," Soul said tiredly as Spirit gave a mournful sigh, his eyes watery. "I know all of this. You were a dick, so she hated you. What's your point, Death Scythe?"

"My point _is_," the older weapon said after clearing his throat, "she's been smiling more recently. She's been happier, and she laughs like she used to before . . . well, before her mama left."

A part of Soul was interested in where this story seemed to be going, but he didn't show it. Instead, he rolled his eyes, pretending that the melodramatics were nothing more than an annoyance. After a moment, Spirit continued. "I thought it might have just been her friends, and the fact that she succeeded in her goal of making a Death Scythe. Yes," he added at Soul's surprised look, "that was her goal, and she achieved it very quickly, and with the kind of perfection only my little Maka could muster. I was so proud."

"Get on with it, already!"

"Shut up, you're ruining the story!"

"Do you want me to go?"

"I – fine. She's been a lot happier lately, and I've been trying to figure out the reason. I think I've worked it out now."

He stopped there, and Soul leaned forward unconsciously. When Spirit looked off into space, his green eyes – _so like Maka's – _fixed onto the wall above the other scythe's head, he huffed out his breath impatiently. "Well, are you going to tell me, or just sit there?"

"It's because . . . of you."

"Huh?" Soul managed ineloquently, spluttering. "What do you mean, because of me?"

Spirit focussed back onto him. "I mean, it's because of you that she's happier. I may have messed up a lot when it comes to feelings, kid, but that doesn't mean I'm blind to them; not when they're _that _ostentatious."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Cut the bullshit, Soul." He straightened, surprised. Unless whining for something, Death Scythe never said his name. He preferred offensive nicknames. "I called you here tonight to give you a message – whatever you do, don't you _dare _fuck this up for her, you got it?"

Soul was bright red by now, due to the older man's implications, but still completely confused. "Fuck what up, exactly? Look, you might think you know what you're talking about, but you don't. Maka – she doesn't think about people like that, especially men."

His meister's father blinked twice in shock. "Are you trying to tell me that she likes gir-"

"What? _No!" _Soul exclaimed. "Jesus, you're such a pervert. I mean, she doesn't let herself feel that sort of affectionate crap about people. Not anymore."

Spirit exhaled, but he looked confused when he said, "Why wouldn't my little girl let herself feel something as great as that? She's a smart girl."

" . . . Because of you. When you screwed up with her mother, she got it into her head that every guy was like that - just as untrustworthy and just as much a cheating man-slut - and I think she still believes it. It's taken me three whole years to get her to trust me like she does now, and I'm her fucking _partner_. I don't think you know your daughter like you think you do if you reckon she lo –she has _those feelings_ for anyone."

Spirit blinked at him incredulously. "Are you really that stupid?" he asked, his voice high in surprise. At Soul's wordless stare, he continued. "You think her problem is with trust? I know that she doesn't like men because I fucked up when she was younger, but she's a sixteen-year-old girl. Of course she's going to give her heart away to someone. And with the amount of trust you've gotten her to give you, I'm not surprised that it's you."

"Bullshit. Maka's a girl, but she isn't like that."

"She does! As her father - "

" - Oh, yeah, you're just _such _a good one."

"Seriously," Spirit said exasperatedly, losing his temper, "I don't like it, but I've admitted it to myself. My precious little Maka, as much as I disapprove, seems to like you. Death only knows why."

"Look, she doesn't feel that way about me, okay?" Soul yelled back angrily. "If she did, I'd . . ." He faltered, trying not to lose his cool. "I just know that she doesn't. Not the same way."

"The 'same' way? So you . . . ?"

"Of course," he regarded the older man scornfully. "Don't be thick. Of course I do."

Spirit leaned back, but there was a wry smile on his face now. "Well, maybe you aren't that dumb. I'll give you credit there. Now, when you go home, make sure to be extra supportive of Maka, because she'll probably be upset over her mother."

"Don't tell me how to take care of her," he replied. "I know far better than you do what she needs."

To his surprise, Spirit actually nodded. "Yeah, you do. Death knows I'm not close enough to her anymore to know. Well, someone has to be. At least she let someone in."

Soul didn't know how to answer the underlying message in that statement, so he just swallowed and nodded too. "Are we done here, then?"

"Yeah, you can go."

He stood up, stretching his arms slightly, and turned to go. With an unintentional backwards glance, he saw Spirit stare forlornly down at his drink. As much as he held the man in contempt, he would always feel sorry for the other man when he saw him like this. Soul couldn't help but think that he was one of the few people that actually saw this vulnerable side of him. "Death Scythe . . ."

"Beat it, octopus-head," Spirit said, his voice holding some of its usual spark. "And don't try any funny business on my Maka, you hear? Just because I give you my permission or whatever, don't get too excited, she's still only sixteen - !"

"So uncool, man." And with that, Soul left.

* * *

"What's gotten into you?" Maka asked, poking Soul's side as they sat together on the couch watching one of her favourite shows. He'd gotten her favourite take-out on the way home as well as some ice cream, and now they were just piled on the couch watching whatever was best on the channels. He'd been oddly chivalrous since he got back, as if he knew she would be upset on this particular day. She'd never told him the exact day of her Mama's leaving, had she? Maybe once, but he wouldn't have remembered.

Nevertheless, she appreciated it, even if she was too proud to say anything.

"Nothin'," Soul replied, his arm around her shoulders almost thoughtlessly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him grin softly. "Just had an interesting conversation with someone today."

* * *

**I love the dynamic between Soul and Spirit, because he seems to rely on Soul as the one way to get himself back into Maka's life. Spirit's serious side is also a good one to write about.**

**A maitre d' is the head waiter of a restaurant. **

**As for my question in the last chapter, the episode is: "Charge Baba Yaga's Castle! Things are Kind of Gloomy?" when Maka decides due to Soul what she should do about Crona and Marie. **

**Hope you enjoyed.**


	14. Chapter 14

_**A/N: **__I do not own Soul Eater or The Script's 'This Is Love.'_

_This chapter is set before the end of the manga, unlike previous ones. Once again, it is after the Book of Eibon arc and before the Moon chapters. _

_Oh my God, over 50 favourites AND follows, and nearly 50 reviews? You crazy people. Thank you so much._

_In response to _fireprooflawyer, _who asked why this story is called 'Accelerando', you'll find out in the last chapter. _

**_Thank you:_**CrazyCreator33, Satiem255, BlueBatWing, bluedog10, Hawkllama, Professor Maka _(you motivated this chapter)_, waytheballbounces _(your reviews show what I need to do/what I do do [hehehe doo-doo], and it's very helpful input, that's what I meant. Also, coz his hair is so messy, maybe? I think, anyway?), _Tenbris _(you're just amazing input-wise, k? K.)_, Guest _(whoever you are, masked vigilante)_, _and_ fireprooflawyer _(as always, thank you so much!). _

_This chapter is dedicated to __**CottonCoccon,**__ because you are such a generous and kind person, so have a chapter!_

_Enjoy._

* * *

**FOURTEEN – GET BACK UP AGAIN**

_It's in the heart of a soldier,  
As he takes a bullet on the front line.  
- 'This = Love'_, The Script.

* * *

She sighed for what felt like the umpteenth time, rolling out the white bandages slowly so as to not double them over at all. Once she'd gotten the appropriate length, Maka turned to reach for the scissors behind her. To her utmost frustration, they weren't there. Still holding the bandages with one hand, she groped awkwardly for the blades for a few seconds.

"Damn it, where did they go?" she hissed, her bangs falling in front of her eyes to hide her irritation.

A soft exhale sounded from in front of her, making her look forwards again. Soul had his hand extended to her, his index finger transformed into a small blade. She gave him a cold glare but nodded, and he leaned forward slowly to slice off the bandages at the marked point. Once they were separated, she rolled up the excess and moved back to face her weapon.

"You're still mad, aren't you?" he asked in a tired and resigned voice. When she didn't respond, he nudged her leg. "Maka? Look, I already said I'm sorry."

"And I already told you that I don't forgive you, so just quit it," Maka replied acerbically, despite the fact that the hands that reached for his forearm were gentle and slow.

He made an odd grunt of pain when she took up his injured arm, but was not silent for long. "Why are you so mad at me? It's not like I did anything wrong. We still won, right? That's what counts."

At this, she hissed and unintentionally dug her fingernails into his skin. Soul let out a whine and tried to move his limb away from her grasp, and she noted to her dismay that it was bleeding once again. A drop of burgundy blood rolled down from the crook of his elbow to his wrist before she wiped it away quickly and softly, holding the end of the bandage to begin wrapping it around his arm. Once she was sure that it was under control, she began to speak again.

"What do you mean, 'that's what counts'? So, what, this just doesn't matter, then? Every single time you do this, you say the same things." At this, she paused to try and hold him still. "Every _damn_ time, idiot."

"And every single time, you get pissy at me," he countered. "We've been through this a million times, Maka. I'm a Death Scythe; you're a two-star meister. We get assigned freakin' hard missions almost every fortnight. It's not like we're going to walk away from every single one of them scot-free."

"But still," she said, pinning up the wrappings and covering the deep cut that ran down his arm, "I don't see why you feel the need to throw yourself in the way every single time there's a blade coming at me!"

"Okay, two things." His voice was starting to get back some of its usual heat despite his fatigue. "Number one – stop saying 'every single time.' Repeating yourself is annoying and uncool; just think of a better phrase. And number two – I'm your weapon. You're my meister. I don't know when you last checked, but it's my _fucking job_ to get in the way of sharp things aimed at your head."

"I could have avoided it – "

"Bullshit, it nearly hit you even after I transformed."

She seethed, throwing down the rest of the bandaging equipment. "Well, then, it was _my _mistake! I don't need you to hover over me when we're in battle. You don't usually do it, and we get out fine! Sure, I get hurt sometimes, but we escape in one piece. Every time _you_ get hurt, however, we nearly get sliced to bits!"

Soul paused, his shoulders sagging, as he tried and failed to move around his stiff arm. Maka could tell that it was hurting something awful, but he was just neglecting to say anything about it for the sake of their fight. They were always like this after one of them got hurt. Caustic, ready to yell at each other to mask either their physical or emotional pain. Usually they just argued for a while and then one would help the other lie down and settle into bed with their injuries, and then both meister and weapon would go to sleep and try not to think about the blood on the battle field for the day. But today was different for Maka. Today, she was _extra _pissed.

Because Soul had been hurt protecting her ass yet again, and she couldn't stand it because she loved him, and he had absolutely no _freaking _idea why she was so upset.

_Really_, she thought in outrage while he gave an unheard retort to her previous barb, _how can he be so blind?_ On one hand, it was good that he was completely oblivious to the fact that she was pining over him, but on the other, it was just frustrating. She was used to having him understand her – Hell, Soul could practically read her as well as she did her textbooks – so having him so in the dark about her motives for acting was odd and irritating. Maka had to be extra careful around him due to his unknowing state, for three reasons:

One, their relationship was one of the greatest things to happen to her, if not the greatest. She didn't know where she'd be without him, but it would probably be in some dark hole without any human contact whatsoever besides through a postman to deliver her books. She didn't want to mess this up with something as fickle as _feelings_, when 'platonic' seemed to be such a good typeset for them.

Two, if he reacted badly to her romantic advances, their resonance may be broken. And she didn't want to sound vain, but without her wavelength control over his Black Blood, the world would have been well and truly screwed in more than a few situations. Therefore, for the good of the world, she shouldn't let him in on her lovey-dovey situation.

Three, being emotional was just uncool. He'd made that fact quite plain himself, as well as the point that she held about as much sex appeal as a cardboard box. Yeah, so maybe he shouldn't find out.

Then again, in situations like this, while he was practically provoking her to give him a reason why she should be allowed to protect him to the extent that he did her, she just felt like grabbing his stupid collar, screaming _'I love you' _in his stupid face, and then sitting back and watching his stupid brain work out how to run away from her and get a new partner. Maybe then the jerk would be able to comprehend the trauma and discontent she went through every time he sacrificed a part of himself for her. She couldn't stand to watch it, and yet it kept happening. From guarding her from Crona, standing in front of her and fighting Giriko while she sat like a snivelling coward, and a million other times in between, he'd developed some sort of masochistic need to stop her taking any impact. That stupid idiot.

"Are you even listening to me?" Soul said now, waving his undamaged hand in front of her face. She swatted it away angrily, turning away from him to pack up their First Aid box. While most households had Band-Aids and aspirin, they had enough supplies to patch up a war victim with second-degree injuries. That was what they were, in essence. War victims. Their bodies were racked with enough scars for it. And now Soul would have another one because she was incompetent and he was a stupid idiot.

Maka was so busy in avoiding his eyes that she didn't see him reach out to grab her arm until it was too late to avoid him. She looked up – _damn it, I was trying not to look! – _to see his dark red eyes on her face, searching for something. "Something's wrong with you. This is different. What's going on?"

"What do you mean?" she replied quickly, jerking out of his grip. He persisted, however, holding her in place as best as he could with one crippled arm. "Get off."

"No. Not until you tell me what you're keeping secret."

"Nothing. Leave me alone, I need to go sterilise these tweezers. Your blood's still on them from pulling out the metal."

"Maka." Soul sounded conflicted as he pulled her back down to her seat beside him on his bed. "Come on, tell me. I know you're upset because I got cut and you didn't want to screw up the mission, but it's not that deep. It'll probably heal in a week or so if I keep it wrapped. Just stop being a perfectionist."

This comment was nearing her to her last straw, and she looked at him in outrage. "Death, you just don't get it, do you?"

He faltered for the first time, a chink in his cool and collected demeanour. "Huh?"

"You've been hurt so many times and you still don't understand why I'm getting like this. You're such an idiot, Soul! How can you not work it out? It's not because the mission had a 'hiccup' that I'm pissed off! It's because of you!"

Instantly he was on the defensive. "Because of _me?_ What the Hell are you playing at? I didn't do shit!"

She grit her teeth. "Yes, you did, you blocked the attack! You just can't let me be in peace, can you? You just have to keep hurting me! Do you realise how it makes me feel when you get injured?"

He went quiet, looking at her wordlessly. They were broaching dangerous territory, waters that neither had dared stir up in fear of upsetting their relationship. Still, Maka pressed on. "Can't you tell that it makes me hurt, too? I can't stand it, Soul, I can't! I've tried so many times, because I _know_ we're going to be hit in battle, but I don't know how to deal with it. So just stop it! I need you to stop it because it's putting me in pain, and you keep on doing it and _doing it!_ Why do you think you have that scar on your chest? The ones on your neck that match chainsaw-blades? Why the Hell are they there? Because you never let me take the damn hit! I don't want you to bleed. I never want it to happen. But it does. Why . . ." At this point her tirade ceased, her voice breaking. " . . . Why do you have to protect me?"

She was horrified once the final words left her mouth, both because she was crying and she'd said too much. He couldn't un-hear those words. Soul Eater may have pissed her off due to his lazy idiocy, but he was by no means incompetent. Surely this would be an eye-opener, right? She felt exposed, naked for the world to see, every little secret about her emotions on display for anyone's eyes.

And Soul was just looking at her, his eyes dark, his eyebrows slanted, in a way that she'd never seen before. She'd never seen that kind of look on his face. He looked, Maka thought, shocked, and . . . very sad. It was like she'd just slapped him in the face.

"Maka," he said, and then stopped. It was almost surreal to have him so stripped of his usual wall of indifference. "Maka, I . . . shit."

That wasn't what she was expecting him to say. He looked so wracked with raw emotion. This wasn't the Soul that she knew, was it? Yet he sat before her, unconsciously rubbing his bandaged arm against the leg of his dark pants to try and soothe the burn in it. She kept her eyes on him and he did her, and for a long moment, neither of them said anything, her muffled crying the only sound in the room.

And then . . .

"Come here."

She eyed him incredulously as he lifted his good arm, clearly motioning for her to hug him. She was torn between her anger at him and her insatiable need to just be near him and know that he was okay, he wasn't too badly injured. After only a second's deliberation, she leaned forwards into him. He wasn't much of a cuddle-whore, so it was best to take this opportunity while the mask was off and the wall was down. She pushed her face into his shoulder the best that she could with his pained limb, and he wrapped his arm around her and let her cry.

It was only after a moment of this odd scenario that she heard what he was quietly saying into her ear. "I'm sorry, Maka, I'm sorry, don't cry, I'm sorry . . ."

"You're an ass," she spat out, clutching at his jacket. "How would you feel?"

"I don't know," he admitted, not losing his hold on her. "That's why I take the hits. I don't know what I'd do."

"Then think about me."

"I do, Maka, I do . . ."

The back of her neck prickled at what those words suggested, but she merely stored it in the back of her mind, giving the current situation all of her attention. She held onto Soul tighter, ignoring his flinch when she bumped his arm, and he held back, and their souls linked as they were known to do so many times, both silently reaching to comfort each other.

That night, they both fell asleep in Soul's bed, curled into each other like children and each taking stock in the fact that it had been another day, and they were hurt, but they were alive and together. Another day down.

* * *

**Angst, angst, angst, angst. Sorry. **

**I haven't been overly emotional since chapter 9, so here we go, feelings!  
I apologise for a seeming lack of romantic input from Soul here, but it's influenced by ch. 112 of the manga when Crona says to Soul that he would understand why she/he (Crona) feels the need to sacrifice him/herself for Maka, and Soul blushes and nods. Forget hand-holding, forget ch.113, forget the 'Sloth' chapter of the Book of Eibon, THAT is the biggest SoMa moment for me in the manga. That little panel does it. So subtle yet meaningful. **

**Sorry (once again), for the late update. Exams. **


	15. Chapter 15

_**A/N: **__I do not own Soul Eater or 'Mr. Brightside' by The Killers. I love this song to a ridiculous extent, it's my 'jam' of sorts. _

_SPOILERS for the END of the MANGA. Ugh, you should be used to these by now, sorry. _

_OVER FIFTY OF EVERYTHING! ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED! Everyone just pat yourselves on the backs._

**_Thank you to:_**SassySimoneEvans, ginny loony, FortuneCookii06, JohnLocked14, SCREAMOKINGXRAGNAROK, fireprooflawyer _(as always, thank you for your constant reviews),_ Professor Maka _(again, you understand my manga-related pain!)_, waytheballbounces _(shameless fluff, haha!)_, Tenbris _(that was the nicest review I've ever got *tear*, but don't you dare melt into goo because then who will I bitch about NOT! with?!), _CottonCoccon (_you inspired this chapter!) and _CrazyCreator33.

_This chapter is dedicated to both __**CottonCoccon,**__who requested a jealous!Soul, and __**CrazyCreator33, **__whose review made me feel warm and fuzzy and yet impressed at the verbosity. Cuddle-whore for the win. _

_Enjoy._

* * *

**FIFTEEN – JUST FINE**

_I'm coming out of my cage,  
And I've been doing just fine.  
Gotta, gotta be down,  
Because I want it all._

_And I just can't look,  
It's killing me.  
And taking control._

_Jealousy.  
Turning saints into the sea.  
- 'Mr. Brightside'_, The Killers.

* * *

Soul 'Eater' Evans liked to believe that he was a pretty tolerant person. He put up with many things in the span of one day. There were, for starters, his superiors, in the form of Stein, Death Scythe and Kid as Shinigami-sama. Every time he got near to Stein, the mad professor would look at him calculatingly, cranking that _damn creepy_ screw sticking out of his equally-screwy brain. The dude just wanted to cut him open and look at his insides, he could tell. Then there was Spirit. The man was insufferable in every way. He spent his time either lecturing Soul on how much harder he needed to work as a Death Scythe, cooing about his daughter, grabbing a lustful-looking woman – literally, Soul had seen him latch on to some stranger more than once – or speaking of one, asking him to mend a fuck-up caused by him to Maka, or telling him that if he "touched my little girl, I'm gonna ram this scythe into your spleen, got it, punk?"

Please. As if there'd be anything left for him to hit. Maka would thoroughly kick his ass before Death Scythe could so much as suspect anything was wrong.

Of course, Kid wasn't _that_ bad. They were solid friends, and that meant dealing with each other's eccentricities. But the Shinigami's obsessive-compulsive tendencies tended to make his life a Hell of a lot harder. Between being yelled at for his asymmetrical hairstyle and pleaded with whenever there was something dirty in the room, there was no denying that the ruler of Death had _issues._

Black*Star was another thing entirely. His best friend was loyal to no end, but the kid was a loud-mouth if ever there one, with an ego to match his volume. Everyone knew that. Plus, Black*Star had developed a habit of dropping into Soul's bedroom through the window whenever he felt like a development had occurred with his still-platonic relationship with Tsubaki. This was usually at four in the morning, mind you. He couldn't even bar the window to keep the little twerp out – somehow, he just kept breaking in.

His other friends caused some havoc, sure, but they were usually bearable. The aforementioned people he could deal with, as well. It was difficult to keep his cool sometimes, but he managed, and therefore survived another day. So he thought of himself as pretty patient.

But then, _of course_, his tolerance was wasted on her.

Maka _freaking_ Albarn, the definition of his own personal Hell. Sassy, snotty and violent to boot, her favourite hobby seemed to be Chopping him in the head for any small number of things; most recently, and he quoted, "_Because you're breathing loudly and I'm trying to read."_ She was untrusting of most men – except him, of course – but never ceased her tirades on how the male species was garbage. She liked to wear short skirts, as well, just to fuck with his mind a little bit because she was flouncing around showing off everything he just _couldn't have._ She was rude to him, bossy, at times almost narcissistic about her grades, and everything he'd ever wanted in a girl.

And right now, any sort of patience he would have was out-the-window, off having a nice vacation one thousand million miles away from him. He felt his hands clench uncontrollably as he stood there, staring at her.

She was across the courtyard, wearing her usual apparel minus the trench-coat due to the heat, arranging her books in her bag. That wasn't what was pissing him off – although the appeal she had in that position didn't help his self-restraint with her. The problem stood right beside her, his arms crossed as he looked down cockily, confidently and with no distraction at her neck.

That prick. Jericho Santiego, the Demon Whip weapon. Soul couldn't deny that he'd noticed the little fucker getting particularly interested in Maka lately, but he hadn't let it worry him too much. Usually people got attracted to her, remembered who her weapon was, and backed the Hell away.

But this guy just wasn't getting the message, apparently. He kept hanging around, talking to Maka about school, books, coffee, and whatever else he hoped she might be interested in, even if he knew nothing more about it than what Google could provide. The damn creep was trying far too hard to make it on Maka's radar, a radar that Soul had worked freakin' hard to keep clear and empty.

The other weapon leaned down now, picking up something that she had dropped, and she looked up to thank him with a smile. Once she went back to finishing her job, his eyes lingered on her, a warm smile on his face. Soul could tell that he really was interested in the flat-chest little meister, for some Death-forsaken reason. She was talking to him, too, which was more than her usual antisocial personality allowed. So maybe . . . she liked him back?

Well, that just ruined his day, and maybe his month, his year, his decade, his century.

Without another look, Soul turned around and started on a brisk walk towards the lockers. He'd been on his way to get some lunch money before he'd stumbled across that little moment, so he may as well not go hungry while he was already in a bad mood. Otherwise he might kill someone – it was hazardous being a teenage boy that could change into a walking arsenal when you were feeling angry. Soul remembered being fearful when first discovering his weapon blood. What if he impaled someone during a temper tantrum?

Now, that didn't seem like such a bad idea. Not if Jericho was on the other side of his blade.

_Whoa, Soul_, he heard as he was opening his locker with only slightly more force than necessary. _Why so angry? Did something happen with your girl? I'm surprised. Usually you just mope around whenever she gets mad at you, before jumping up next time she offers you a bone. Did she finally break you in and house-train you?_

The Death Scythe flinched as he heard the deep gravelly voice of Oni inside his ears. The little bastard always popped up when he was feeling particularly emotional. He tried not to close his eyes, instead focussing on the locker before him as he dodged a few partnership-request letters to retrieve his wallet. If he lost concentration he'd find himself in that little Black Room in his soul, facing the little red creature as it mocked him.

"Fuck up," he grumbled under his breath as it began to laugh, disappearing back into his sub-consciousness. He wrenched out the wallet, slamming the metal door closed and locking it in one motion before starting to stalk back to the lunch area. He would eat with his friends today and see if they could put him in a better mood.

This proved to be a bad idea. Black*Star was off with Kid in the Death Room – something about a 'Godly man issue' that the scythe did not want to get involved with – and Patti was busy buying her lunch. This left him with only the other two members of their group. As soon as he sat down, he heard Liz and Tsubaki's conversation. The two older girls were chatting animatedly about the newer transfer to their class, who _just so happened _to be Jericho Santiego. Oh, the joy. As much as he tried not to listen, Soul caught snippets of phrases documenting the sheen of the other weapon's hair, the way his arm muscles swelled, and how his Latino accent was enough to melt a girl like butter - !

"Geez, Liz, do you ever shut up?" he asked half-heartedly. He hadn't even gone to get food due to the nature of the conversation, instead choosing to masochistically try and block out their words. "You've been going on about this for the last five minutes."

Liz gave him a withering look and flipped her hair back over her shoulder. "I didn't realise I needed your permission to have a conversation with Tsubaki, _Soul_. Don't take out your jealousy on us."

"Jealousy?"

"Please. We're _girls,_ it's our job to notice when something like this happens." At the Death Scythe's blank look, she rolled her eyes and said, "Maka's been talking to Jericho, and it's making you angry. Don't think we haven't seen it."

"Why would I be jealous of that guy? Black*Star's the one who wants the attention on him at all times, not me. I know Maka isn't going to become that weapon's meister – I'm not stupid. Why would you think that her talking to him is making me annoyed? She's allowed to have friends, Liz."

"See, there's the thing!" the girl said, pointing to him. "_ 'Friends.' _If Jericho were a girl, you wouldn't care at all. But he's a _guy_, so you're jealous that your precious meister might like someone while you're stuck whining and pining yourself to sleep."

"I am not!" he protested. "That ain't cool, and besides, who says I even like Maka like that, anyway?"

Both Liz and Tsubaki gave him a flat look, making him hunch over his shoulders and push out his breath irritably. "Whatever. Screw you guys. I'm going to go find a tree to take a nap under."

"_Sure,_" Liz cooed, shooing him away.

Tsubaki cringed at his angry appearance, but the other weapon girl assured her that he would be fine. "It's just how guys get, Tsu. They rant and whinge, but this is a good thing."

"How so?"

"Maybe now he'll finally grow some balls and tell Maka that he wants access to her mouth."

Tsubaki shuddered. "I don't know if you should say things like that . . ."

"Meh. Now, anyway – so what's going on between you and Black*Star?"

And as Soul retreated, Tsubaki froze, dropping her fork with a blush as red as the tomatoes in her salad.

* * *

True to his word, he had gone to slump underneath a tree out in Shibusen's forest training area. This excess of a negative emotion of his was making his Black Blood play up, so he'd wanted to be isolated. Alone. Able to sort out his thoughts before Oni made a reappearance and he did something he regretted. Usually with Maka here he could control it, but she was _obviously _too busy off talking to Jericho or whatever it was that she was doing, so he'd deal with this bout of madness himself, even if it made his soul prickle and his body ache until he took enough deep breaths to feel in-control again. It was shady and cool out here, away from the manic sun, and only once he was lying down could he vent out his frustration by slamming a fist into the ground. "Damn it . . ."

This was so fucking uncool.

Maka was 'chatting' with another guy, and it was reducing him to this? Pathetic. The other guy may be a Demon Whip, but _he_, Soul, was the _whipped_ one. How had he let it get to this? He'd always convinced himself that keeping his feelings in the dark and not causing any sort of rift in the relationship he had with his partner was best.

After all, that was what he did, wasn't it? Oni had said so himself, while trying to goad Soul into losing to madness completely in Russia. He'd brought the point up on the moon, too. Soul 'Eater' Evans was one to hold back, whenever something that came up that remotely concerned himself. He was used to sacrificing what he wanted so as to please other people and maintain his image of 'cool' – he'd given up his dreams to be a pianist for his parents after he was seen to be lesser than Wes. He'd given up his life of normalcy for Shinigami-sama when pledging to attend Shibusen. He'd restricted his eating, his movements, and his actions for his friends and those closest to him so as to not earn any scorn. And for Maka, he'd nearly given up his _life,_ throwing himself in front of her to block Crona's strike because she didn't want to die.

He'd also given up loving for her. Death knew she wouldn't want him to ruin their partnership – she relied on him too much, in a platonic familial way. So, he'd made the cut. Called it quits.

And now, look how fucking happy it was making him.

So, should he give up being jealous, too? Let Maka date this creep if she wanted to, create a whirlwind romance that had all of Shibusen's students and faculty gossiping while he stayed back and watched from the sidelines, putting all of his feelings and despair behind a blank mask?

He didn't want to. Death, he didn't want to. But he was tolerant, and he was masochistic, and he was ready to do anything to make her happy.

_How much can you give up before you have nothing left?_

His Blood ached still, his soul felt bitter, and he had no choice but to fall asleep and hope to _someone_, _something_, that it'd make the pain go away. But he knew it wouldn't.

* * *

\

Soul felt something hitting his shoulder roughly, startling him awake. He cracked open his eyes blearily, stifling a yawn, and glanced at the silhouette of a person blocking the sun from his view. Once he noticed the stature of the figure and the pigtails blowing in the breeze, he sighed. Here was his Hell.

"What are you doing out here?" Maka demanded, sounding annoyed.

He shrugged, pushing himself up against the tree a little more so as to sit up somewhat decently. "Sleeping. Why?"

"You missed Sid's class. _Again._ I thought you said you weren't going to skip anymore."

At this he _did_ sit up. "Shit. What time is it?"

"One-thirty," she replied acidly, giving him a kick with her foot. At his grimace, she rolled her eyes. "You're hopeless. Why would you even come out here to sleep, anyway? Usually you just go to the library with me or something. This is a stupid thing to do, even for you."

He sighed, ignoring the jab. "My . . . look, it doesn't matter. Sorry I missed class, I'll go see Sid. It was uncool. Can we go now?"

She faltered. "Is something wrong? You sounded like you didn't want to tell me something."

"I'll be fine," he said, not seeing how her face darkened. That wasn't a denial that something _had _upset him. "Where were you at lunch?"

"Oh." She blushed, and he pushed himself off the ground suddenly, not wanting to look in her eyes. He'd given up, he chanted to himself in his mind.

_I've given up. Someone else can try. I've given up. It's not my place. I've given up_.

"Jericho asked me to dinner on Saturday."

With this mantra, it was almost easy not to break his facade. He only flinched slightly, keeping his face blank of any real emotion. Anything he showed might be related back to a cool indifference, or being upset at something previous to this moment.

After years of quitting, he knew exactly how to pull off the show.

"Really?" he asked, his voice even. That was how it usually sounded, right? "Where are you guys going to go?"

" . . . Huh?"

He did not turn around, but his shoulders felt tense. "You know," he elaborated slowly. He had to keep cool. "To dinner. Where are you planning?"

By the sounds of things, Maka had stopped walking. He paused also, but still didn't turn. He didn't think he could school his eyes properly, and it was hard enough stopping his wavelength from seizing up. While he could read Maka physically better than anyone else, she could pinpoint his wavelength's frequency within seconds. His mask was the easy thing to wear – it was his soul that caused problems.

"What – what makes you think I said yes?" she stuttered out finally.

At this he stopped completely. "Why wouldn't you?"

She sounded almost hurt when she spoke next, her voice wavering. "Because . . . I thought –"

"Well _I _thought you liked him," Soul bit out before he could stop himself. He needed desperately to keep this restraint, and he had been doing so well, but what could he say? Jealousy brought out the worst in him. "You've been spending enough time with him, anyway."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Her footsteps started up again, approaching him quickly. "Is that why you're out here, because you were having a sulk that I was talking to someone else who wasn't you?"

"No, I was _out here_ because my fucking Blood was aching again and I wanted to try and get some peace for once!" he replied, finally turning with viciousness that neither he nor his meister was anticipating.

Maka stopped, and now he could see her eyes, and they were wide and green, trained on him with a look of shock and hurt. Her hand, which had been approaching his arm, dropped to her side. "How long has your Blood been causing problems, Soul?"

"Since the moon got covered in the stuff. It's not too bad, but at night sometimes it makes it hard to sleep. That's why I do it so much here. I assumed you would have noticed."

"How can I, when you don't tell me anything?" she replied, but her hair had fallen down to cover her eyes and her voice sounded hollow. "You should have said something to me, and I would've . . ."

"Done what, exactly?" He could feel his hackles coming down now, but he was still on the defensive. "Look, I can deal with it. It's fine. _Just _fine. Go and enjoy your dinner and, just, whatever, Maka."

He had taken exactly six steps when she said, "I told him I couldn't go."

"You did what?"

"I said I couldn't go," she reiterated, her hands by her sides. "I didn't want to go with him to dinner, because . . . because he isn't you."

Soul looked at her, fists clenching, straining for her next words as she spoke. "You're my partner, Soul, and I don't want to go out to some classy restaurant on a Saturday when I could be at home arguing with you about which one of us burnt the food again. I don't want to go out places without you there telling me that you're bored and want to go home. I don't . . . I don't want anyone that isn't you."

He swallowed, standing very still, and she did too. This kind of admittance must have been hard for her, a part of him realised. She hated admitting that she relied on any one person or was close to them, so to confess something to this degree must have been trying on all of her beliefs. Then again, this was only a part of him. The rest of him was yelling, _What the fuck?_

"So I said no to Jericho. It wouldn't be fair to go out with him if I didn't like him the way I like you; that's something Papa would do, not me. If I went, I'd probably just be thinking about you or how much I didn't want to be there anyway. I guess I thought you'd want to be around me too, but if not, then I'll just . . . I'll just leave it alone, Soul. It's been too long, and I'm ready to just give up."

_Just give up_. She was – she was going to give something up for him? But that wasn't how it worked, was it? _He _was the one who sacrificed things. He let what he wanted get away for the sake of others. Were other people willing to do that for him? Was there someone who cared for him that much in this world?

Besides, he didn't want her to give this up, did he? If what she was saying was true, that meant that he didn't have to call it quits and neither did she.

"Maka."

"What?"

He honestly had no idea how he crossed that space so quickly. Sure, he had long legs, but it seemed like no time at all. In an instant he was before her, and she was looking up at him, her green eyes wide as she processed in her mind what was about to happen, what he was about to do - !

He leaned down, slanting his mouth against hers in one quick motion. She replied by closing her eyes and moving easily into the space of his body, letting her hands wind up into his hair as his fell down to her waist. It shouldn't have been as easy as this, as natural as this. Then again, they resonated so much that they were practically closer than the limit of human contact mentally. Why not physically, too? They let their lips move against each other's in harmony, not thinking about where they were, what they'd said before, and anything other than the feel of each other. Soul ran his hand down Maka's back, his eyes shut, marvelling in how she tasted like her cherry lip balm and the sweetness of orange soda. She sighed against his mouth, playing with a few strands of white that were escaping his usual hairstyle. Distantly, the bell signalling the end of free period rang, but he paid it no heed. Neither did Maka. Both had waited so long, unbeknownst to the other, to quell this need to be so close, to know that they weren't the only one longing for something they thought they could never have. Soul could distantly feel her soul's wavelength trying to entangle with his in the same way that their lips were, and he nudged her mouth with his tongue at the same time that he accepted her wavelength to mix with his own. She breathed out heavily, and he flicked his tongue over her teeth. They felt so _flat_, compared to his, and it was enough to break him out of the haze of the kiss and chuckle wryly.

Maka broke away, breathing heavily – because they'd completely forgotten about air, but who cared? – and raised an eyebrow at him. He held onto her, looking down with a grin. "Your teeth are so blunt. How do you even chew?"

"Opposed to what, shark-boy?"

Despite their current position, completely wrapped in each other, he growled, tensing. "_What _did you just call me, Albarn?"

"You heard me."

"I don't know if I did. 'Coz I didn't realise you had a death wish."

"Oh, bite me."

"Fine by me."

"Wha – _mmph!_"

And on that day, Maka _did _give up one thing – her perfect attendance record for arriving at class on time.

* * *

**I can't write a kiss scene to save myself, dear God.  
This is rather long, isn't it? **


	16. Chapter 16

_**A/N: **__I do not own Soul Eater or 'Rescue Me' by Agnes. This song was provided to me by_ CrazyCreator33,_ so thank you for the prompt, and I hope I do it justice. I know I didn't use the expected lyrics or take it in a conventional direction, opposed to what this could have turned out like, but I thought I'd shake it up a bit._

_I was on holidays this week, away at the beach, so I apologise for such a late update. I probably – definitely – should have mentioned that I would be gone in the last chapter, but I forgot completely. Sorry! Have some double-sided teenage feelings to cover it. I'm a bad person._

_Thank you to everyone who gave me consolation in the last chapter that my kiss scene was not ϋber sucky. It gave me hope that maybe one day I'll write a decent one. _

**_MANGA SPOILERS_**_, you know the drill._

Thank you to: Bursyamo, mabello, Robastar34 _(thanks, that's so kind!), _'Guest' _(whoever you may be)_, Shhhh _(a Halloween theme shall be coming up at the end of October, don't worry!), _kawaiighurl018 _(for using my special word)_, waytheballbounces _(I fear writing that, I really do)_, fireprooflawyer _(I was thinking 'to Hell with him' the entire time I wrote it, too. Hehe), _Professor Maka _(thanks a bunch, as always!)_, CottonCoccon _(your reviews always make me so happy!)_, Tenbris _(your alerts hate you! Life in general - wahhh! But oh my God, that baby fic. Like. Oh my God), and of course_ CrazyCreator33.

_I recommend at the moment reading the latest chapter of _Staccato _by _Tenbris._ It contains our ultimate headcanon of Soul as a dad. Agh. Do it. _

_This one is dedicated to _CrazyCreator33,_ who has two dedications now, fancy-pants! Thank you so much for suggesting this song for me to listen to._

_Enjoy._

* * *

**SIXTEEN – BETTER OFF**

_It's perfectly clear,  
That love's not what you need.  
I tell you I don't care,  
But I don't want to.  
-_ _'Release Me', _Agnes.

* * *

**HE SAID . . .**

He'd never even questioned everyone else's seeming interest in his 'love-life' until Ox pointed it out one day during Nygus' combat class. Not until the 'Royal Thunder Commander' himself had, in a fit of gloom over Kim's blatant rejection of his bestowed affections in public, asked Soul why he hadn't got himself a girlfriend to pine over yet. Now he sat there, scratching his head awkwardly as Ox and Harvar, as well as Kilik, regarded him with cocked heads and crossed arms.

His first response was, of course, to cover up his surprise at being questioned with an offhand cool comment. "Oh, yeah, because you're _totally_ living the dream with your 'girl', aren't you Ox?"

The words did the trick – Kilik snorted and the other meister's brow instantly screwed up under his horrid glasses as he gave some sort of feeble moan about how 'a woman's heart was a cruel thing indeed – and yet not even the harshest words could distort the beautiful light that was his precious Kim.' Either that or something else incredibly puke-worthy – it made the Death Scythe shudder. However, most of _his_ attention was focussed on Harvar, who was regarding him coolly from behind his shades. There was an aloof personality, and then there was this guy. He was an icicle, but a very observant one at that. Besides that, he was very used to dealing with Ox's preaching on love unrequited, and therefore able to ignore it. And therefore, the other weapon hadn't missed the way that Soul had artfully dodged the question aimed at him. Oh, the observant bastard.

But as he was about to say something quick-smart to stop Harvar from trying to word his opinion, the other guy said, in his monotonous drawl, "He isn't exactly the first to perceive affection between others."

_What?_ Soul felt his own eyebrows draw together in confusion as he regarded the Demon Lance. "Uh – say what?"

"I was speaking of your relationship with Maka. Ox doesn't see it, blinded by his own ridiculous 'love' for the witch," he replied smoothly.

Soul sincerely wished that, upon reflection, he would be able to say with honesty and dignity that he kept his cool and did not let his imperturbable countenance break under the bluntness of the other weapon's words. But he couldn't. Instead, like the cool guy he was, he slipped from his position of leaning against the gymnasium's wall, sticking his leg out awkwardly to avoid a close and intimate moment with the floor, all the while going as red as a lobster and spluttering with all the appearance of a twelve-year-old girl when confronted by a crush in the school yard.

Once his composure was regained – okay, once he decided his composure was long gone and it was pointless to try and summon it back - he deemed it all right to speak normally and said, "I think _you_ might be the one that doesn't see things clearly, dude. Maka and I – that's not a _thing_."

Harvar almost smiled – it was more like a demure quirk of his lips – as he regarded Soul's awkward state. "I don't know what you mean, Eater. Or is it Evans now? Whichever, my point's the same. You two are obviously together, so why deny it?"

"No, we're obviously _not. _Seriously, man, who's telling you shit like this?" A new idea dawned on him and he felt himself pale. "Is someone saying that? You better tell me, Éclair."

"Nobody's saying anything - well, anything _bad_, but I can see it," Harvar replied easily, shrugging stiffly. "You're practically her _dog. _Honestly, it doesn't exactly set up a very good reputation for us weapons. Teamed with Maka, you're seen as the strongest pair in Shibusen, regardless of individual strength." Had his voice held any emotion, this would seem like a slight or a challenge to fight, but as the guy was a rock, Soul let it pass with merely a grinding of his sharp teeth. "How can we truly say we're independent human beings when you act upon her every whim as a puppy waiting for a bone?"

"Ugh, why is it always the _dog_ metaphor? Jeez, every fucking time," he muttered to himself, his cheeks still red. To Harvar, he replied, "I don't do whatever she says – she's a freakin' head-case! If I did what she told me to half the time, you'd be saying these words over my coffin."

"Maybe," the other weapon acknowledged unfeelingly, "but, if you're telling the truth and aren't actually dating her, I'll add my question to Ox's. Why aren't you seeing anyone, specifically _her_?"

"What even makes you think I'm interested in her, man?"

"Don't treat me like a fool. Despite your rank, I think we both know who's superior in brains here."

Soul grinned. "Ah, Harvar, your words warm my heart, they do. I'd like to think myself merely competent enough to survive, but with you it's a whole different story."

"Where does the eloquence come from? Maka's influence, no doubt. That just proves my point. You two are always together, and with the way you act and talk about and with each other, you can't try and convince me that there are no romantic feelings."

He reeled back at the mention of the word 'romantic', for it was a notion that he'd been entertaining a little too much recently concerning Maka, and to hear it coming from someone else's mouth just didn't seem _right._ These were his private thoughts for his own thinking time, right before he was falling asleep and his own ideas couldn't shock him. Stupid Harvar shouldn't be talking about these things, not while Ox and Kilik might hear. Then again, the two were now in a scuffle regarding Kim and 'femininity', so their attention wasn't worrisome for the time being. Still, the fact that someone else was talking to him about Maka, _his Maka,_ with the knowledge that he sort of loved her, didn't allow him to be put at ease. Therefore, he gave Harvar a cold look and told him to shut it.

The guy chuckled tonelessly, crossing his arms. "Why are you trying to fight it so hard?"

"Because . . ." _Hell, _he thought in surprise, _I actually want to be honest. _These feelings had been pissing him off for a while, and maybe it wouldn't be so hard to tell Harvar. It wasn't like the guy was going to show much emotion either way. He was clearly the wiser of the situation. With a sigh, Soul said, "Because it couldn't work, dude, so why should I even try?"

"Why not?"

This reason, as far as he thought, should have been obvious, so he scoffed. "She's my _meister._ Of course it couldn't work. She's too busy trying to save the world to actually think about this sort of shit, and then on the other hand, she's _Maka._"

"Your point?"

"That she's a genius, a total sexist when it comes to guys, and completely _not interested_. Seriously. Maka doesn't want a boyfriend, or love, or any of it. She's too busy thinking about books and how all men are trash. She has to focus on Death Scythe training – which is something you should be thankful you don't have to do, because trust me, there aren't any perks – and not any sort of High-School-Musical relationship shit. Her dad messed her up and it's taken me forever to just let her be comfortable with me. You think I'm gonna fuck up all of that trust by pressing something on her that she doesn't want?" When he realised his own innuendo and his raving manner, he blushed again – albeit in a manly way, fuck it – and said, "Not what I meant, but it works the same."

"I have no doubt about what you_ meant_," Harvar smirked condescendingly. But then he added something that confused Soul. "Still, I thought you knew your own partner better."

"Huh? You trying to say I don't know Maka well?" Previous charity aside, he would hit Harvar if he had to. _Say it again, dude, and you'll remember that we're in _combat _class. _"She doesn't want love. What makes you think you know better than me?"

"Well," said the other boy slowly after a deliberate pause. "Let's just say, when I assumed you two were in a relationship, it wasn't just judging off of _you_."

The rest of Combat was spent mulling over the Demon Lance's words, because Soul hadn't thought about it until now, but he _really fucking wanted_ Harvar to be right, prick-like behaviour or not. But he couldn't be, could he? Maka didn't care about him like he did for her. She'd made it plain in her affectionate behaviour with him, treating him with absolutely no sort of awkwardness whatsoever. Hell, sometimes she wore his shirt and some extremely short bike pants around the apartment, and nothing else. She didn't care if he saw her with her hair perfect or her clothes flattering. She didn't act quiet around him, or ostentatiously and giggly like the girls in his 'fan club.' And if he understood anything about how girls showed their crushes – which he only did because Maka watched chick flicks, not like he was studying girls or watching _Clueless* _or anything, fuck off – she was exhibiting no signs. Love wasn't what she needed as a meister. And that was that.

* * *

**SHE SAID . . . **

She really hadn't expected to have her trip to the bathroom result in something of this sort. Honestly, only in chick flicks – that Blair watched, not _her_, she didn't watch _Mean Girls _all the time or anything, don't be stupid – did this situation occur. But now, as she stood there trying to pat Kim's shoulder comfortingly while having _no idea_ what was going on, she found that this was almost exactly the same in real life as in films and books. The tanuki witch was ranting angrily, her eyes sparking and her hair occasionally lifting with her own magical influence as she let all her feelings out in one gust of irritation. Maka had been merely having a bathroom break during class, seeing as she'd completed her own physical assessment in Combat for the day, when she'd walked in on Kim screeching to herself with indignation and threatening to smash in one of the faucets at the sinks.

Honestly, the girls' bathrooms at Shibusen really saw too much violence. Soon they'd have no Death-damn toilets _or _taps left. What was next, the shower?

"He's just so _stupid_ sometimes!" Kim cried out now, her fist slamming angrily into the sink, which cracked a little. "Telling me that he . . . all of _that_ and in public too! Where everyone can see! It'd be one thing if he told me all his feelings when nobody was around, but to get on his knees and crow about me while everyone can hear - ! Doesn't he think about what that makes it look like?"

While a part of Maka really did dislike Kim's treatment of Ox – standoffish for the most part, but too encouraging to stop the onslaughts of romantic proposals and the _sonnets_ the Lightning Marshal Meister often recited – she thought it would be best to keep these thoughts to herself for the time being. After all, it wouldn't be long before she would end up like the faucet if she tried to reprimand a _witch_ in the middle of an angry rant. So instead she said, keeping up the soothing pats, "He probably didn't think about it, Kim. You know how men are. But some of the things he said were really nice, and now that his hair has grown back . . ."

"But it's _embarrassing!_" the other girl whined. "He's not rich or handsome, and to have him act that way to me is just – ugh! You wouldn't get it; being popular sucks."

That stung a little, but again Maka chose wisely to overlook the pink-haired meister's words. "It must be hard, and I get that, but still. Don't let it worry you. Won't you look better if you just keep being yourself regardless of him, instead of yelling at him and causing a scene in front of everyone?"

"Are you saying I looked stupid, Maka?"

"No, of course not, I meant _he _did!" She let out her breath once Kim's hackles fell again, but she was still fretting. She needed to get back to class, now, or she'd get in trouble. And then Soul would never let her hear the end of it, because she always, _always_ yelled at him when he came back late. The taunting would be unbearable.

The other girl nodded, taking a deep, calming, inhalation of air. "What should I do? How did you train _him_ so well then?"

"What do you mean?"

"_Soul,_" Kim enunciated, rolling her eyes as if to say that this was obvious. "He doesn't do this to you in public – you two actually manage to look like you're 'just friends.' Did you train him? Do you reward him?"

Maka's next words were choked off with shock, and when she did speak next, all she managed was, "Huh?"

"Well, you and Soul have been together for Death knows how long . . ."

"Um, _no we haven't._"

" . . . So I assumed, despite the way he jokes around, you taught him to keep the PDA**s to a minimum. You're so lucky . . ."

"I didn't teach him – what the heck, _PDAs?_ Why would he be giving me a PDA, Kim, it's not like that!"

" . . . Because he's both _hot_ – no offense or anything . . ."

"_Why would I take offense, we're not together!_"

" . . . _And _he's rich, so you really lucked out. Plus you live together, so he doesn't have to be an idiot in public. Honestly, Maka, for a girl – well, like _you_ – you really have it perfect, don't you?"

"_He's not my boyfriend!"_ Maka screeched out, trying to get herself heard over Kim's continuous statements that only added to her horribly red face. Once the witch shut up, she said, "He's just my partner, who I live with. That's _it!_ Why does everyone always – ugh."

"Then why do you always look at him?" the other girl asked in confusion. Maka paled. "I mean, you hit him and you two hold hands all the time, so of course we can all tell you're dating."

"But we aren't! And I don't – I mean, we hold hands because it's for Resonance, but – and I don't _look at him_, what are you talking about?"

At this, Kim took on almost a smug look. "Oh, so you aren't together, you just have a crush on him, then?"

Suddenly Maka Albarn realised why the girls' bathrooms saw so much physical attacks, if this was what it was always like. Instead of doing anything rash, however, she ground out through her teeth, "I. Don't. Have. A. Crush. On. _Soul. Eater. Evans._"

But the witch was already washing her hands – for some reason, it wasn't like she'd just used the bathroom or anything – and ignoring Maka's disagreeing words. "Well, that's cute. Does he know? No, if he did you two would be together by now. Well, how is it at home? Does he ever walk around shirtless just to tease you? I bet he does. Wow. _Cute_. So how are you going to tell him?"

The scythe meister was too preoccupied with trying to keep her voice and face clear of any betraying signs of certain _romantic feelings_ to comprehend half of this speech, but she caught the gist of it. "Why would I say anything to him?"

"Ah, so you _do_ like him. Knew it."

"I – _Death damn it!"_

"Maka likes _So-oul, _Maka likes _So-oul!" _

"Ugh, no, I – shut up, stop it!" she yelled.

Kim grinned. "Well, seeing as I thought you were a couple, you can't do too much wrong, can you? Maybe you should tell him. You already live with him, don't you? Maybe you can just _show him_."

"Ew!"

"That's not what you'll be thinking tonight~"

Kim thankfully knew it was time to stop and leave while she could when yet another Shibusen girls' bathroom found itself in the possession of a broken toilet, and one _fuming, _if not heavily blushing, meister.

Maka sighed, staring at the porcelain. Great. Now there were seven working toilets instead of eight. Kid would kick her ass. Why had Kim been saying such things? All she'd been trying to do was comfort her, make her feel better, and to be subjected to this - ! It was ridiculous. Besides, what good would any of it do? Soul wasn't romantic in the slightest – well, not unless he was talking to his freaking motorbike; _then _he was a sap. But to human beings, to _her_, he was nothing but an asshole who managed to worm his way into a heart made of stone. Stupid idiot. Her partner was many things, but loving was not one of them. He was not looking for a heart to conquer – and if he was, it certainly wouldn't be _hers._ She knew this. Love wasn't what he wanted as a 'cool' guy. And that was that.

* * *

**THEY SAID . . . **

It was at the exact same time that both meister and weapon realised the same three things, although separated.

Number one: Apparently all of Shibusen thought they were dating.

Number two: They _wanted _to be dating.

Number three: Now two people knew their dirty little secrets, and knew _exactly _who to tell them to.

"Oh, Death no."

"Aw, _fuck."_

* * *

**_* - _****I'm re-reading ****_Emma _****again, by Jane Austen, my second favourite book ever, and this is the story that the classic chick-flick 'Clueless' was written from, with the same characters, mostly the same story, just name changes. That's a fun fact. ****_That_**** chick flick was actually a classic novel.**

**** - PDA = Public Display of Affection. Like when people awkwardly glomp each other in front of you. **

**Harvar~~~ I have so much love for the secondary Spartoi members.**

**I didn't say 'ostentatious' in the last chapter, and now this. Gah. Sorry. Please don't hate me for this one-shot.**


	17. Chapter 17

_**A/N:**_ I_ do not own Soul Eater or Mayday Parade's 'Oh Well, Oh Well.' The song quotes are split unusually (one normal at the start, and another of the same format right at the end) due to this following the flow of the story. I recommend listening to this song. _

_This one-shot is more serious and deep, fair warning. Also, it's still intended as SoMa. Also, heads up, Blair might annoy you at the start of this. But she's necessary, because she's a big part of their relationship as their roommate and someone close enough to see their daily reactions with each other. _

_Thank you: _Banana998, Byakugou, The Fading Author, Professor Maka (_Austen fangirling for. the. win.)_, SigMcMuffin _(Yes, they narrowly avoided some dead bodies. Thanks!), _waytheballbounces _(as always, thanks for reassuring me that I'm still in character and my one-shots are still working)_, CrazyCreator33 _(I'm so glad you liked the way the song was used! You're welcome)_, Robastar34 _(they were both realising Harvar and Kim, being not-close friends and due to their personalities, would tell Soul and Maka what the other had said and that they liked each other. Sorry for the confusion, I know it was hard to understand!)_, Tenbris _(Queen of the Baby Fic, Harvar represent!)_ and SassySimoneEvans, _for whom the next one shot (Chapter 18) will be done using a Paramore song._

_This chapter was written in commemoration of everyone who has been publicly singled out by a group and made to feel worthless purely for forty seconds' entertainment, laughter from peers and a humorous Facebook status; also, to anyone who was or still is stuck as "a really great friend" and nothing more. _

_Enjoy._

* * *

**SEVENTEEN – I CAN LIVE WITH MYSELF**

_And I'll be what you need,  
You can call me anything.  
Just as long as we're still  
'Friends.'  
- 'Oh Well, Oh Well',_ Mayday Parade.

* * *

Masochism really didn't suit him, he decided as he sat at the kitchen table, idly playing with his fork. His food was gone – partly eaten, and then thrown out once it proved to be too much for him. He'd made pasta, his fallback whenever things were looking shitty, and now even _it _couldn't cheer him up. When Italian food failed him, Soul 'Eater' Evans knew he was in trouble.

He sighed, pushing back his chair and stretching. It felt nice, but there was of course that tight sensation in his chest. It just didn't work, stretching out his arms. He'd get a little way through the mundane task, and then his great big chest scar would come into play and hold all of the tanned skin over his ribs and sternum exactly where it was, making the whole exercise pointless. Food wasn't helping him tonight, stretching wasn't doing a damned thing – although this was the norm – and he _still_ hadn't managed to distract himself from the reason for his bad mood.

Blair mewed and rolled out of the way when he collapsed onto the couch, grabbing the remote away from her claws and bringing the television to life. He could feel the cat's eyes on him while he tried to keep his focus on the screen. He didn't want to have this conversation with her, no matter the fact that he _knew_ it was coming and that she was going to try and make him feel better about the whole situation, therefore making him feel like shit. Soul pointedly ignored her little glances and tail-flicks, instead surfing channels for something that had a lot of blood and death and angry things. That way, he and the television would be in harmony.

"Soul-kun." She already sounded sympathetic.

He remained stony-faced and pretended to be oblivious.

"Soul-kun~" she said again, scratching at his pant leg with her sharp little claws to try and get his attention.

"What?" he said shortly, letting Blair know through his tone of voice that he didn't want to talk to her, or even be on the same planet.

She pouted and released him, composing herself with her natural feline grace in a crouch on the couch's cushions. "You're unhappy about this, aren't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. Now shut up – I'm trying to watch this show."

"But _Soul-kun_," Blair whined, "how can you just be sitting here?"

"Well," he replied slowly with a very sarcastic drawl, "it's a Friday night, and I don't have after-school training. What I _do_ have is legs, which I can use to sit down. There's a couch here, so I have something to sit on. That's how."

The cat hissed, and in a plume of smoke, emerged as her human form. Soul turned his head away out of habit, due to her own habits which involved wearing as little clothes as possible. This time, however, she was wearing denim shorts and what could almost be passed as a crop top, which was something like a new personal best for her. He breathed an outward sigh of relief and turned his attention back to the film on the television.

She would not allow him to back out of the conversation, though. With a quick flick of her hand, the remote was knocked out of his, and she kicked it before he could seize it back up. "Don't," he complained, moving to retrieve it, but she held him back with a quick hand.

"You need to talk about this," the cat woman said in what should have been an authoritative voice. But it was her, so it came out in a girly and still distinctively feline rush.

He shook his head, crossing his arms and his ankles, not showing one bit of emotion on his face apart from boredom. "No. I really don't."

"But . . ."

"Look, Blair, drop it. Seriously. I don't wanna' talk about this with you. Hell, there's nothing to even talk about. I don't know why you think I'm upset."

"Because you didn't eat much, and you always eat less when you're all sad!"

Soul rolled his eyes and shrugged. At this response, Blair pressed on, "Maka-chan went out tonight, and you went all moody and frowny afterwards. I don't know why you didn't put up more of a fight when she said she was going out."

"Uh, why would I?" His voice was only slightly higher than normal. His wavelength was a different matter, however; not like that mattered. The only person who could tell that was Maka, and she wasn't exactly here right now, was she? No, she was out at a party that she'd been invited to by one of her 'friends' in class. A _male_ 'friend.' That 'friend' had been her escort. Stupid son of a bitch. This was the reason that he was moping around on the couch tonight, as much as he didn't want to admit it. Then again, Blair didn't need to know, did she? And yet, she was pushing it, because apparently she _did _know.

"I can see it when you're together."

"See what?"

"I'm a temptress by nature, scythe-boy," she said with a deep and throaty voice, one hand reaching for his shirt sleeve. He jerked his arm out of the way, leaning away from her in a clear rejection and bored irritation at her usual tricks, and she gritted her teeth. "And yet you don't let me seduce you. Men always let me get what I want, but _you_ don't."

"Yeah, well, no offense, but it just doesn't work for me." He shook his head. _Where the fuck is this conversation going? _A moment ago he'd been trying to avoid the subject of Maka's . . . he would not think the word 'date' for fear of puking. Now this? What the Hell was that stupid cat trying to say about him and his meister, to be _this_ desperate to make him listen? Usually she was just vain and self-absorbent, and he told her this in confusion and annoyance.

She pouted at him. "I don't like being rejected and called mean things. It's not nice. But I know why you reject me, despite my being such a beautiful person."

"Seriously," he cut in, standing up from the couch and fully eyeing her now, "what are you playing at?" _She better not be saying what he _thought _she was saying, or a certain cat was going to be kibble. _He already copped enough of this shit from Black*Star, on the subject of Maka.

"You're . . . just like Maka-chan's papa!"

" . . ."

"Yeah!" she exclaimed. "You're always being so protective of her because she's _your _little girl, and you don't want to share her! It's just so _purr_fectly adorable! And now some other boy has got what you want, and what you thought was yours, and now you're all pouty because he has what you don't!"

"I – hold up, Maka isn't _mine_. She's my meister – if anything, she owns me as a weapon. But don't tell her that. Besides, I'm not jealous about the guy taking her to the party, if _that's_ what the fuck you were trying to say around that heap of uncool shit. It's – it's different to that."

Blair cocked her head to the side in confusion, looking exactly like her cat-version. He sighed. "I'm . . . worried about her."

"Worried about Maka-chan?"

"Yeah. Think about it," he said, a hand over his face as he tiredly rubbed at his eyes. "She's not exactly the most trusting of men, is she? After her _father_ fucked every woman possible in Death City, I don't blame her."

"But she trusts you," Blair voiced after a moment of contemplation. "What about that?"

"That's different. I'm her partner, and I live with her. She kind of has to trust me, or both of us would wind up dead. If you think about it, with the kind of person she is, if we hadn't become partners I think she would actually hate my guts."

"Maka-chan could never hate Soul-kun!"

He scowled bitterly. "I wouldn't blame her if she did. But that's not the point. At least when it's just me with her, or even Black*Star and Kid, I know nothing's going to happen that could set her off. It's not like either of them is going to try anything that could hurt her. But with other guys, people I don't know – they could do anything. They could cheat, lie, try to do something to her . . . The worst thing is, I can't do shit about it, either. Because like I said, she _isn't mine._ And I can't tell her to be careful, because then she'll just bash my freakin' head in and jump over my dead body to do whatever she wants anyway. I said to her today that she should take Liz or Tsubaki to the party with her, because she doesn't even know this guy that well. She Chopped me and told me to stop being jealous that she was the one to get invited to something for once, and not me."

Silence. He turned to Blair in confusion, and was surprised to see her ears down and her head bowed. She was frowning, and her eyes looked watery. "Uh," he said awkwardly, "what?" _Death forbid, if she fucking cries and I have to listen to it . . . that would just make my night. Have I pissed her off? Well, fuck it, she can cry and I'll just go to sleep or something. I'm not in the mood for this._

"That's _so sad!_" the cat wailed after a second, looking up at him in tears. "Soul-kun! You're watching over Maka-chan and she doesn't even know it. I thought it was just because you wanted to _play _with Maka-chan and someone else was doing it instead!"

"Oh, dear Death, do _not _put that fucking image in my head, for the love of – "

He was saved from any more of Blair's awkward wailing by the ringing of the house phone. Sighing, he padded away from the sniffling woman and snatched the phone off of its cradle. "Hello?"

" _. . . Soul?"_

_That's Maka's voice. _"Nope, it's actually George Clooney, you got me," he answered sceptically. "Who else?"

She didn't reply, and he looked down at the phone unintentionally, his eyebrows wrinkling. "Are you all right?"

"_Are you doing anything at the moment?"_

"Watching a movie, why?"

_"Um . . . Do you think you could come pick me up?"_

He checked the time on the phone in confusion and said, "Doesn't the party not finish for another two hours or something? You only left an hour ago."

"_Yeah, just . . . I want to go home. Please, Soul."_ There was something in Maka's voice, something that she was trying to cover over. She sounded upset, and something dropped in the pit of his stomach. Something had happened, by the sounds of things.

"Okay. Where is this thing?"

_"Just pick me up at the fountain in the middle of town."_

"What the fuck are you doing out the – hey, are you _crying?_" He was seriously alarmed now, already reaching for his keys while he spoke and sticking his feet into his sneakers.

_"Of course not, what are you talking about?"_ she said, but it was a poor lie. _"Just come get me, will you?"_

"Yeah, I'll be there soon. You sure you're okay?"

_"Thank you, Soul."_ And the line went dead in his hand. He looked down at the phone, clenching it tightly in his fist, so much so that the plastic edges dug into his hand. Blair was asking him what was wrong, but it was like he couldn't hear her. Maka had definitely been crying previous to the call, or was close to tears. Great. He'd known something like this was going to happen, he'd freaking known it. Leave it to one guy to prove that all men were asses. Sure, her wanting to leave might not have been directly related to something her 'date' had done, but it seemed pretty likely. Maka was tough as nails – but the follies of her own father had made men her number one weakness, even if she claimed her aversion to them to be her number one strength.

She'd spent so long putting up walls, high walls that he'd had to scale for a long time before he finally got over them and got close enough for her to let him in. If this guy had ruined all that progress . . . He threw open the door, storming out into the chilly hallway angrily.

_Some motherfucker is gonna' die tonight, and it's gonna' look like a fucking accident. _

* * *

He spotted her immediately, sitting on the edge of the fountain with her legs swinging idly, staring down into the water over her shoulder. He knew that she knew he was there – anyone would be able to hear his Road King coming. She didn't stir however, leaving him to climb off of the seat and flip the kickstand before making the awkward trudge over to her.

"Hey," he said neutrally, trying to scrutinise her face without being obvious.

She looked . . . fine. Her eyes were clear, and there was no red puffiness around them to signify crying. Her clothes weren't ripped at all and her hair was still perfectly done in the wavy style she'd left it in. She seemed to be lost in thought; maybe she really hadn't heard him drive up. But when he spoke, she turned her head slightly to look at him. "Hey. Thanks for coming to pick me up."

"'S'all good, there's nothing good on TV tonight anyway." When she offered nothing other than a small smile, he sighed, knowing he'd have to be the one to do the prompting. "So what happened, then?" She looked back at the water. "Maka."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Too bad."

Maka raised her eyebrows at him, crossing her arms, but he stood his ground while mirroring her stance. They eyed each other down for a total of ten seconds before she broke. "There was . . . a little incident with the party."

Soul stiffened, resisting the sudden urge to turn his arm into a blade and hunt down the nearest guy. He gave her another, less discreet once-over, but she _looked _fine . . . "What happened? Did someone do something or - ?"

"No, no, nothing like that," she answered quickly, raising her hands to pacify him. She knew him too well; knew when he got sudden bouts of homicidal rage. "It was – it was all a joke, Soul."

"What was?"

"The party." Maka seemed very reluctant to speak, and she had her head ducked. She was _embarrassed?_ Why? From all he could work out, she was saying the party was a bust. And hold up – that still didn't explain why she was out at the fountain when the party wasn't even here. Plus, why did she look so good in that black dress? Where'd she even _get_ that? Why should he even be thinking about that? She clearly wasn't interested in him or his sharp teeth and white hair. Why was he looking at her?

_So many fucking questions._ Then again, some were more relevant than others. "I don't get it. It was a shitty party, so what? _Why _are you out here at nine, in the middle of town, with no one else around? What's the deal?"

"There _was_ no party, moron!" she screeched suddenly, making him back up in surprise.

"Wait, _what?_"

"It was all a big joke! He was on a bet, and all of his friends joined in to make me believe it! They wanted to see if they could trick Maka Albarn, top of her class, three-star meister!" Her voice had risen and risen, and he thought she was going to burst into tears, but instead she angrily kicked the side of the fountain. The brick spat plaster over her foot as a reward and she cursed at her stubbed toe.

Soul felt sick. He'd imagined bad scenarios, but not something like this. This was worse than if the guy had made out with some other girl while drunk at the party. This was a set up, meticulously planned and orchestrated prank to truly belittle her and make her feel like an idiot, shown off in front of everyone. What had happened when her so called 'date' had picked her up? Had they even gone anywhere, or had he just driven her to a place where all of his friends were waiting to laugh at her? A glance down at Maka's feet showed that they were red, and her shoes had been discarded previously. She must have . . . _walked here._ From Death only knows where. And now she was waiting to go home, not crying or, if she had, not with any ostentatious signs of doing so still present. There wasn't a trace of a tear in her eye, but her shoulders were definitely slumped. He started thinking about how many of the freaking guy's limbs he could break in sixty seconds. If Maka hadn't beaten him to it – he imagined her reaction to the prank would have been enough to hospitalise all of those boys.

"What?" he asked inelegantly when she said something unheard.

"Don't make me repeat it."

"I didn't hear what you said."

She crossed her arms and stuck her nose in the air. "Yeah, right. Jerk."

"Why am I a jerk? I seriously missed it!"

"I said," she spat out, "you were _right_, sorry for Chopping you."

He sighed. "You mean about being careful?"

"Yeah," Maka nodded. "I guess . . . I guess I just thought maybe this time I could try and give people a chance." She gave a very humourless laugh. "Look where it gets me, hey?"

He wanted to say so many things at that moment. _Not everyone is like that, Maka. There are people that care about you – like me. I would never do that to you. They're uncool, Maka, don't go thinking that everyone is like that. I'm always here for you; I'm never going to do anything like this to you, if I ever take you anywhere. Let me show you, Maka. Let me show you that guys aren't all like this._

But right now he was not here as the boy-turned-Death-Scythe who had fallen in love with his meister three years ago and spent all of the time since in an agonising silence. He wasn't the roommate who secretly loved how she looked in his shirts, even though he yelled at her for stealing them. He wasn't the weapon who wanted nothing more than to show his meister just how much he could protect her and keep her safe.

No. He was here as her friend. Just that. As always.

So instead he said, "People suck."

She smiled, and it was all he could do to smile back. He led her over to the motorcycle and climbed on, letting her follow suit and wrap her arms around him without complaint. He started the engine, flipped the kickstand back in and drove off into the dark. He wouldn't say anything else about it. Because Maka Albarn was tough and didn't want to be reminded of bad experiences. She was strong and didn't want weaknesses like love interfering with her battle strategies – not according to him, anyway. She didn't want him to ruin their partnership.

Because whatever he may have wanted to be with her, there was one thing he would always manage to succeed at being at the end of the day.

Her friend.

And if that was all he could have, he would be the best he could.

* * *

_So I'll just smile,  
And make believe,  
I don't feel a thing,  
That doesn't work for me.  
- 'Oh Well, Oh Well', _Mayday Parade.

* * *

**Picture this as at a time where both still have feelings unknown toward each other. An unconventional story, but hopefully you still liked it.**


	18. Chapter 18

_**A/N: **__I do not own Soul Eater, nor the song 'Misery Business' by Paramore. Here's your request song! I actually love this song and just never knew the name before so thanks!_

_I had a request a while back for jealous!Maka, so here it is._

_As for you lovely people who are suggesting I do a Halloween theme, fear not! I have a few requests to fulfil – waytheballbounces, your awkwardness is coming up next. However, on October the 31__st__ (or 30__th__ for you in other countries – I'm bad with time zones), the Halloween one-shot will be here. Although Halloween isn't an Australian thing, really, it's a Soul Eater thing. And it is gonna' be sweet. _

_There's a cameo in this chapter of a certain girl with curled pigtails. This is the girl that appears in front of Maka in the Book of Eibon's Envy chapter, because while this was a fragment, the girl actually did exist, stalking Soul and Maka up to this point, and then just kind of buzzed off until she fan-girled over Soul in the final chapter. We never actually found out what she was like in real life, and not in a delusion of Maka's. So, she's back. I haven't named her as she was unnamed in the manga, and I can't just name people. _

_SPOILERS for the MANGA, you know the drill. Major spoilers for the Salvage arc, and the chapters leading up to that. And the end, major spoilers for that too. Sorry. Ugh, I'm always writing post-manga chapters now, so sorry if you're trying to read the manga and I'm killing you._

_THANKS: _Banana998, EtoileDuMatin, clair de lunestars, kem4286, nearsightedmachines, CottonCoccon _(Thank you! Yes, he will, he better!)_, waytheballbounces _(I know, he needs to grow a set!)_, scorpioneldar _(i'm glad!)_, CrazyCreator33 _(he knows Maka would have already killed them, haha. I wanted to write a section about how she kicked their asses, but the paragraph didn't fit in the story properly. Frownyface.), _SassySimoneEvans _(I already read them, I really like Maka Albarn - Best At Everything? ! It's awesome! Hope you enjoy the song use.), _Professor Maka _(f, you're too kind, dem feels bro)_, Tenbris _(Do you prefer Overlord Baby Fic? YOU DON'T SLEEP I'M NOT EVEN SURPRISED ANYMORE HAHA)_, fireprooflawyer _(your reviews always make me happy with my writing, kill those bullies with crowbars, woo!)_, _and the two mysterious 'Guest's, both of whom made me happy. The Halloween fic is coming. _

_Okay, here you go._

* * *

**EIGHTEEN – YOU KNOW YOU WOULD**

_Well there's a million other girls  
Who do it just like you,  
Looking as innocent as possible to  
Get to who,  
They want,  
And what they like, it's easy if you do it right,  
Well I refuse, I refuse, I refuse!  
- 'Misery Business'_, Paramore.

* * *

This sort of veiled act just made her sick.

_Really,_ Maka Albarn thought as she hefted the stack of books in her arms and strode swiftly toward her locker, _it's girls like that who give us others a bad name. _She sighed, rearranging the large pile with her elbows awkwardly so as to not let them all tumble everywhere. If that happened and she ended up on her ass – which, knowing her stability on her feet, she would – she would never live it down. Not with Soul here, anyway.

He walked casually beside her, because everything about the stupid scythe was cool and casual, with his hands shoved deeply into his jacket pockets. Of course he hadn't offered to carry any of her books for her – she wouldn't want him to. Soul had worked out early in his partnership with Maka that she resisted assistance in anything, especially mundane tasks related to strength such as carrying a load of books. It would look bad if a meister aiming to create a Death Scythe couldn't even carry a measly pile of literature. What would that say about her form when wielding a weapon? So Soul didn't help her with anything unless she asked or really needed it, which in this case was fine. She was angry at him, anyway, so she didn't really want to be in a position where she needed him to walk beside her.

Okay, maybe she wasn't angry at _him_ specifically, but he'd been the cause of the source of her anger anyway, so it was easier to just blame him. Stupid Soul, being so . . . popular.

She wouldn't have anyone make the mistake of thinking that she wasn't used to her weapon's constant popularity. Since Kid's enthronement ceremony, in which he'd shown everyone his musical talent unrestrained, his fan-club seemed to have swollen in size and dedication. He was constantly receiving partnership letters and face-to-face requests, or being pulled aside at lunch to have someone try and speak to him. She'd learned to deal with this, although it irked her to constantly have him be the subject of offers from other meisters. This was purely because if it annoyed _her_, he could only be described as livid. Soul wasn't really a 'people person', as the expression went, despite him coming out of his metaphorical shell more since the sealing of the Kishin on the moon. Although he was weaning himself back into society step by step, allowing himself to be less hostile around people and less guarded around his friends, being attacked with such a surge that early into his self-imposed rehabilitation had irritated and frustrated him to no end. So, she could take solace when she was bothered by it in the fact that he was feeling the same thing, tenfold.

So Maka liked to think that she was by now immune to such bombardments on her otherwise-secure and relaxed partnership with Soul. But then there were days like this, with girls like this, that just ground down on her nerves completely and caused her to develop certain violent tendencies towards everything and everyone.

_This girl_ particularly evoked the ash-blonde meister's anger, however, whenever she approached Soul with the same sort of ostentatious signs of flirting that the Death Scythe miraculously missed or ignored. She used to be a troublesome shadow, sometimes following Maka and Soul around with peering eyes and others merely hanging around wherever they were with the rest of their gang.

That was before Spartoi had been submerged into the Book of Eibon to rescue Kid. Before Maka had ended up in the chapter of Envy, and this girl had gone from silent stalker to head-on tormentor. Maka would never forget the look on that girl's face as she told her that she was no match for Soul. The curled pigtails, done up with hair-ties so similar to her own, bouncing when she shook her head in contempt at failed attempts at 'basic contact material.' As if contact material was easy with a broom when one was accustomed to the adaptable weight of a living scythe in their palm. This girl, a year younger than her, had haunted her for a long time after Kid was successfully retrieved and Noah taken down. Although she had recovered her presence of mind when fighting Giriko in the Sloth chapter, she had never quite forgotten that little grin, the bounce of the curls, the fists on the hips that had shown so much _contempt_ and a blatant acknowledgement of all of the scythe-meister's flaws.

With the increase of the necessity of tracking down the Kishin, the girl had stopped watching her and Soul for a while. However, once the moon had become a ball of Black Blood and Kid had been enthroned as the new Shinigami, the stalker-like tendencies had picked right up, and increased. Not only was she 'discreetly' watching them – forgetting that Maka had the most intense Soul Perception of her generation – but now she had advanced her game, evolving with age, and moved on to visible _flirting_. Of the grotesque, '_look, I'm so innocent and cute and oh, no, I can't reach this book on the top shelf because I'm short and adorable, could you get it for me, Soul, because you're so tall?_' variety.

The aforementioned incident had literally just happened, which is why Maka was in a bit of a rage as she carried her newly-loaned books. Why did girls feel the need to be so sneaky when trying to get the guy they wanted? Why couldn't they be honest and upfront, instead of trying to use little jabbing ploys to get the attention of men? It made her as a female feel angered that another, and so many others, could give themselves such a _weak _appearance just to try and make themselves more attractive. And here, of all places, in Shibusen, where the strength one possessed was what gave them the edge over their classmates! It made her so angry!

Almost as angry as the fact that anyone would have the audacity to flirt with _her_ partner right in front of her.

Not quite, but near, as angry as Soul's bored, completely unfazed reactions made her.

He didn't even blink whenever it happened. He just did whatever the girls that approached him asked – within reason, of course, because he was heinously lazy unless the situation or Maka motivated him – and then carried on as if nothing had happened. He didn't encourage his admirers, he didn't discourage them; he just continued on, and it pissed her off. While Maka was of course glad that Soul didn't seem to have any interest in any of these plastic little fangirls, it _did_ frustrate her that he seemed to be fine to the attention – used to it, even. Couldn't he tell the girls to go away? Or did he like their constant demonstrations of affection? He may have been trustworthy and different to most of them, but he was still a _guy_.

"What's up with you?" he asked as he opened her locker for her.

She ground her teeth. "Nothing."

"Oh, yeah, totally. You're just glaring daggers for no reason whatsoever."

"So what if I am?"

He rolled his eyes and pulled open the small metal door for her, muttering something that sounded like, "_Fickle woman."_

She elbowed him as she placed the books down haphazardly, trying to shove other things out of the way so as to make the giant stack fit. After a few seconds of pushing and cursing under her breath she managed to slam the locker closed – only to realise that the book she needed for her next class was now wedged at the back of it. "Oh, for Death's sake - !"

"Remind me again _how_ you got to be the smartest person in our class – _ouch! _Okay, I'm sorry, jeez, quit it, sorry, calm down!" She stopped laying her fists into his head and huffed, turning with her nose in the air back to her locker to deal with the present problem. That'd teach him to mouth off at her.

Although she had come to realise her feelings for Soul fully since the sealing of the Kishin, that didn't mean she wasn't going to hit him just as much for being an idiot. In fact, she was fairly sure she hit him _more_, so as to keep up the illusion of her indifference. After all, they had a partnership to preserve! They couldn't just go around making out in closets when there were tainted souls to fight . . . _Not like _she'd_ mind, though. _

Maybe that was why this pigtailed girl pissed her off so much. She had all the freedom to act as she pleased around Soul, whereas Maka, as his meister, had none. Not like she would resort to the tactics of those prancing, dainty fakes or absolute _dollymops*_, anyway. She just got so . . . aggravated by flirty girls. They were pathetic. She would never be like them.

Well, she'd resolved not to be, until _she _showed up again.

Oh, there she was, in her little preppy ensemble – like Maka was one to talk, but that was beside the point – with her hair curled in those stupid ponytails. All of it resembled Maka's own style of dress, only somehow more obnoxious. She still didn't know why this stalker insisted on copying her to get Soul's attention; sure, she may have been the closest girl in Soul's life by _far_, but he wasn't exactly throwing himself at her, was he? Maybe the kid should try a different look. She had her hands behind her back and was walking past with such an air of innocence, like she wasn't there purely because Soul and Maka were. All right, maybe she wasn't, but hey, if this little _problem_ was going to irritate her twice in one day, then what was she to do?

In that moment, she made up her mind on the appropriate course of action. Was she proud of it? No. Should she do it? No. Would it make her seem like one of those women who acted all coy and sneaky in driving away rivals when it came to men? Yes. Was it treating Soul like property instead of a person? Yes.

But she did it anyway. Just as the other pig-tailed girl was passing, flipping her stupid curls, Maka gave a great sigh and leaned forward, falling against the surprised Soul's chest heavily. She pushed her face into his shirt, giving a big yawn.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm _tired_," she whined. "I can't even be bothered to stand up."

"Oh yeah," he grumbled in return. "So I'll just do all the work for you, is that how it is?" Nevertheless, his arm moved to steady her, and her plan worked.

If that other girl was going to try and play games to get Soul's attention, then Maka would just have to play back. And Maka Albarn _never_ lost a game.

By now Soul had successfully balanced himself once more; still holding onto her arm lest she decide to collapse dramatically once again for Death only knew what reason. He sighed and shook his head. "Sometimes I just don't get you, bookworm."

"What do you mean?"

"You're . . . I don't know. Just you. Now come on, I'm _not_ gonna' be late to lunch because you suddenly decide that breathing is too much of an effort and I have to learn CPR in five seconds flat," he drawled. While the tone of his voice was heavily sarcastic, she couldn't deny that the mental images this brought on, coupled with his hand on her arm as he pulled her toward the lunch hall, made her erupt in goosebumps.

She looked over her shoulder as he dragged her, and she could see the little stalker staring straight at them. Her eyes showed that she was surprised at what had happened, and more than a little upset, but Maka couldn't bring herself to feel apologetic. If she wanted to play, she had a vicious opponent.

But neither of them, as good as they may have thought themselves, were any match for Soul 'Eater' Evans, who was playing a game of his own. The weapon couldn't help but grin sharply as he towed Maka, who was blushing interestingly, towards the rest of their friends and the enticing promise of food. While Maka may at this point only be trying to keep other girls' hands off of her partner, _he_ had a bigger plan in mind. And it would be, step-by-step, a victory like none other. Because Maka was going to lose this battle of staying just his meister for the sake of their partnership – he'd make _sure _of it.

* * *

*** - A ****_dollymop_**** is Victorian era slang for a common class prostitute. I read a lot of classic literature leave me alone. **

**Thank you~**


	19. Chapter 19

_**A/N: **__I do not own Soul Eater or the song 'Shut Up and Kiss Me' by Orianthi. _

_This is for waytheballbounces – awkward just for you! Of course, there's the Soul and Maka personality thrown in, because this chapter is one to make you laugh at their own idiocy instead of pine over their 'platonic' relationship status._

_Also, Mercury, here is me stopping my heinous act of OTP!blueballing, so you don't start calling me Trolsp and killing me with broadswords. Stay strong, sister! Just head canon that shit._

**SECONDARY TYPING - HOLY CRAP I'D JUST FINISHED FILLING OUT THE REST OF THE A/N WITH THANKING PEOPLE AND REPLYING TO REVIEWS AND ADDING A FEW THINGS, ANYTHING NOT IN THE WORD DOCUMENT, AND THEN THE "WEBPAGE EXPIRED." AAAAAAOBGWHOHWBNWO;QBAUPHBTQOHBOO fifteen minutes of my life gone. Here's me re-doing it while cursing at my computer:**

**Thanks: **Arkangelsouls, Neko-chan49, demigodrk, lizakimiko, waytheballbounces (_I was way too uncoordinated for that, sigh. I read a lot of the same thing, it's awesome.),_ Robastar34 _(I know, right?)_, CottonCoccon _(Glad you liked it as always, thank you for your kind words!)_, Café nina _(formatting makes me type your name like this or my computer explodes, sorry *frownyface*, and that's fine, I'm glad whenever someone reviews but I don't expect it, don't stress!)_, CrazyCreator33 _(she soooo would, and I'm glad you think I followed the song well)_, SassySimoneEvans _(that makes me relieved because the chapter was for you!)_, fireprooflawyer _(She could never beat Maka, haha! Glad you liked it.)_, Professor Maka _(For the Fing WIN!)_, 'Guest' _(I'M SO SORRY IT WAS LATE I HAD WRITERS BLOCK FORGIVE ME I'M TRASH SORRY WAH, AND HONOURED THAT YOU FOLLOW THIS SO DEVOUTELY!)_, Mercury Soul _(like you totally aren't gonna worse than blueball me with your upcoming feels minefield, that I can't wait to read! Here's me making up for that in this one shot, woo! Hehe, Trollkubo, Trolsp)_ _and _Tenbris, _whose review made me feel all war and glowy, like I'd eaten a firefly . . . but without the sickness and the weirdness of that and . . . yeah, that was a bad metaphor._

_The Halloween chapter WILL be fancy dress by popular demand, and a party. It's coming soon._

_DOLLYMOP SUPPORT FTW! I'm glad so many people liked my weird little classic-literature usage. I do it again in this chapter, but even earlier in history (and therefore nerdier) with the insult. Heh._

_I updated on time! _Guest _made me realise I've been completely failing at updating on time and I'm sorry, please don't hate me!_

_Story time, sorry, enjoy. _

* * *

**NINETEEN – MY LITTLE GAME**

_You're chilled out,  
I'm so hyper,  
On paper we're a disaster._

_So shut up and kiss me.  
- 'Shut Up And Kiss Me', _Orianthi.

* * *

It had entirely spawned from the moment. Really, after all this time, she wasn't surprised that this was how it would end up happening.

Not to say she wasn't surprised. Because _shit, she was._

Maka stared at Soul with wide eyes, and a part of her was amused that his expression was exactly like her own. In times of complete and utter importance, they were very different – she freaked and he kept cool. He was negative, she was optimistic. They were like that in personality too; he was completely laidback with life itself, whereas she was uptight and always striving for complete perfection. But training, eating, working, fighting and basically _living_ together had of course meant that their own quirks of temperament had rubbed off on each other to a degree. For example, Maka had picked up habits regarding putting her feet up on the coffee table, as much as she was loathe to admit it around Soul. He would stretch when he sat down on the couch in the mornings, which was something that she had always done.

And it looked like they'd been together so long that their reactions of shock, when it came to something like this, were exactly the same. They just stared, and coloured, and mentally freaked out while trying to keep a calm front.

She kept her mouth closed, her lips still tingling, trying to get her brain working again. It was going sluggishly due to the complete and utter bewilderment she was feeling. She was just glad Soul wasn't the quickest thinker in these situations, because that way she wouldn't have to fight to think of something to say. There was nothing _to _say, was there? All that they could really do was blush and try not to look like too much of a fool.

After all, what was the etiquette when you'd just kissed someone purely out of anger at them and the heat of the moment?

They'd been fighting over the stupidest thing – who had eaten Soul's triple chocolate ice cream while he hadn't been home. He'd stayed at Black*Star's, and the girls had all come over, so they'd inevitably ended up eating it while watching chick flicks. But Maka didn't want to admit that Soul was right in accusing her of having a hand in its disappearance, and so an all-out argument had erupted in which couch pillows had been thrown and choice words had been yelled: _"What the _fuck _is a coxcomb*, anyway?"_

Needless to say, the two had approached each other angrily while yelling, until they'd been closer than anticipated. The shouting had gotten worse, and then – well, then, somehow their lips had touched and then they'd both jumped back as if the contact had been initiated with an electric eel.

Maka couldn't figure out how screaming had amounted to his lips _actually freaking touching hers. _She numbly repeated their last arguments in her head, but there seemed to be no trigger. Just horrible insults. She certainly hadn't instigated anything . . .

Did that mean _he_ had?

At that moment, Soul seemed to gather his wits and manage to form words. A miracle. And to think that the lips that shaped those words had just touched hers . . . "Did you just . . . ?"

"I didn't do anything! You did!" she sputtered back indignantly, still trying to get the gears in her brain working.

Her partner still had a definite blush on his cheeks, but she saw his eyebrow rise incredulously as he hissed, "_Bullshit!_ That was totally you."

"Wha – no! It was _you._"

"Liar."

"_You're _the liar!"

He turned away slightly, his jaw working. "You were just trying to distract me from my fucking ice cream, weren't you?"

"I don't know what you mean," she said through her teeth, "considering _I _didn't do anything. _You_ were trying to make me lose my argument."

Apparently another thing they reacted to in the same way was a challenge. He was a headstrong idiot, and she never backed down from a fight. Then again, that was because she was always right, so she would have no reason to back down, would she? Maka felt her eyebrow twitch in irritation and she clenched her fists, glaring at him. He did the same. Awkward and confronted, she didn't know how to be. But angry? That was her freaking _field_.

The face-down lasted for another few moments before Soul flinched and broke. Although usually he couldn't be intimidated by anyone's looks – because sharp teeth and red eyes tended to give one an advantage in looking threatening – Maka was renowned for being able to bend him to her will with ease. One glare and the raising of a book, and he was out for the count. The Death Scythe hissed in frustration before sighing, slumping his shoulders. "You know what? Fuck it. I'm going to get some more ice cream. And maybe some padlocks, and a security system, and some cameras, so you don't eat _this_ one too! Or try and pull any more tricks!"

"Oh, sure, go buy your ice cream, so you can think that you won the argument with _your _little stint. Yeah, _real _mature, idiot!"

He grunted, "You're so screechy, just shut up, will you?"

"Just go _die_, will you?"

"Fine!"

"_Fine!"_

He grabbed his motorcycle keys from the kitchen bench and gave her one last nasty look over his shoulder before storming out of the apartment. Maka kept her defensive front until he was out the door, and only once his footsteps – or more like stomps – had died down in the stairwell did she allow herself to breathe out a great sigh of relief and slump down onto the kitchen table. She sat on it for a few moments, swinging her feet absentmindedly as she tried to make sense of what _the Hell _had just happened.

So, if she remembered correctly, she'd argued with Soul, thrown pillows at him, screeched at him, and then – _kissed him?_ Or he'd kissed her, or whatever that could even be classed as. As she thought back, she was still sure _he_ had kissed _her. _She would never pull such an audacious act! And to do it in the way he was implying, too, to win the fight?

If she was going to kiss Soul 'Eater' Evans, she'd certainly have a better reason than because she was an ice-cream thief.

Besides, why would she go and do it? She'd been suppressing her urges to do just that for the past two years, hadn't she? Why would she break when he was calling her a _'little lying bookworm'_? Wouldn't she do it in a moment of extreme romantic intensity, maybe when they were looking out at a sunset after a long night in a mission, or when she'd sat with him at Kid's enthronement ceremony, watching the city's celebrations, or once he'd said something extremely loving to her, proving that he felt the same that she did?

_Pfft, yeah, right. If Soul said something sappy like what I've got in mind,_ she thought drily, _he'd be talking to his freaking _motorcycle,_ not me._

Maka grit her teeth. She'd read hundreds of books, seen movies, even a few plays in her lifetime. None of them had told her what to do when she was torn between kissing Soul again – because, despite her anger and the odd situation, it hadn't exactly been _unpleasant_ – and smashing his face in with the nearest encyclopaedia collection. She needed outside help – someone experienced, someone who knew how to deal with kisses and _feelings_, and someone who would straight-out tell her what to do without trying to be kind or hesitant.

There was only one thing she could do. Hanging her head, she sent a silent prayer to . . . _something_, because praying to _Kid_ of all people would seem too weird in the current position she was in, that Soul would take a damn long while buying that ice cream. With that out the way, she bit her lip and reached over the table to the phone hanging on the wall. Her hand trembled as she dialled the number, and she held her breath until the receiver clicked on the other end to signify the call going through.

" . . . Hey, Liz? Are you busy?"

* * *

"No. Freaking. Way."

Maka blew out her breath, frustrated. "Yes, _way._ I've already told you about four times."

"But he," Liz gasped, and then her mouth slammed shut once again and she just shook her head in amazement. "No way."

"Ugh, you're not helping!"

"Sorry!" she replied, but she was grinning now. "So, you guys finally made out, then? Is that what you're saying?"

Maka felt her face heat up and she started to vehemently deny this. _"No! _I _said_ it was just for a few seconds, it was more of an accident than anything else! For Death's sake, I – _what do you mean, finally?_"

The older girl shrugged. "Only that everyone's been expecting you two to be eating face for the last few years now. Seriously, it's almost starting to get old. At least now that this has happened, maybe you'll finally start _doing_ something." She paused, and then grinned slyly, waggling her eyebrows. "If you know what I mean."

"I don't – oh, dear Death, _Liz!_ If I knew you were going to be like this, I would have called Tsubaki! I don't want to hear about what you _think _we should have been doing – and, by the way, just _no_ – I want to know what I should _do _about it!"

"Well, what's the problem?" the weapon asked. "You like Soul, don't you?"

"Well," Maka blushed furiously, "I, um, depends what you mean, but . . ."

"You wanna' get in his mouth. Okay, check."

_"Liz, I swear to Death, I _will_ use this book –"_

" – And he wants to get in yours. So what's the issue, Maka? You've already kissed once, right? Why can't you just tell him you like him now?"

She clenched her hands into fists in determination. She'd never Maka-Chopped one of her female friends before**, but she was just _itching_ to right now. She had to stay calm. Besides, something Liz had just said had bugged her. "How do you know?"

"Know what?" Liz asked, examining the ends of her hair. "I know everything."

"That he wants to – uh, that he _likes_ me?"

"Well, you said yourself that he kissed you first, right? That's a pretty good indicator." The weapon smirked. "From what I know of guys, anyway. This, I can tell you, is a fair bit."

Maka's mouth screwed up in confusion. Yes, she thought he had kissed her first, that was true. But did she think that he liked her that way? Not really. There had been times when she had allowed herself to get a little bit hopeful, and even to encourage him with subtle jabs; she'd even been ostentatious about it, blatantly telling him to call her an angel, and he hadn't taken the hint. He must really have just been that indifferent, to not take notice and react. Therefore, it was pretty plain to see that he didn't like her – not as far as she could tell. Her friends sometimes made little remarks that could be seen as suspicious, but this usually stemmed from innuendos about them being teenagers living together. They were too different – he was so 'cool', and she was so hot-tempered. It just didn't work, not now that she thought about it. None of it had any foundation.

So if Soul didn't like her, why would he kiss her? Had he? Or had _she_ done it, and then blamed it on him in her shock? Now that she wasn't fuelled by anger, she had all of her former mortification restored and increased. Maybe it had all been her. After all, she'd been holding out for long enough, hadn't she? She'd certainly wanted to kiss him when he'd been that close, hadn't she? Could she – could she really be the culprit? The one to make everything awkward between them because she couldn't control herself in those few seconds?

_Crap._

"So how am I going to react to him when he gets back?" she asked, fretting now. "I mean, technically we're still fighting."

"Man, your relationship is so _hard!"_ Liz whined. "Can't you just _kiss and make up_? Or, in this case, make _out?_"

"If you make any more puns or dirty jokes, I'm going to kill you."

"You're no fun." When Maka didn't reply, she shrugged. "Alright, I'm out. He could be back at any moment, and also, you look like you're going to _actually _kill me, and I don't really want you to."

"But I don't know what to do!"

Liz paused on her way to the door, and when she turned back to look at her, there seemed to be an almost _fond_ look in her eye. "You're always trying to do everything perfectly, or to do what you think is right. Why don't you just do what you _want_ for once?"

Before Maka could answer, she left, and the meister was left alone with only her feelings and the steady blush rising in her cheeks.

* * *

It was a good thing Liz left, because Soul got back not more than ten minutes later. He had a bag of groceries in his hand, and the topmost thing Maka could see sticking out of it was the stupid little tub of ice cream. It seemed to taunt her, as if bringing up everything she'd been trying to put off thinking about for the last nine minutes and forty two seconds.

Not that she'd counted.

It had taken all of her resolution to not do what she normally did when conflicted – shut herself up in her room with a book and complete and utter solace. She sat instead on the couch, watching television, so Soul would have no way to laugh at her for retreating and therefore losing the fight. She could hear him dumping things on the kitchen bench, dealing with the food as a first priority. Once everything had been put away – with a great chorus of doors slamming so as to non-verbally communicate the fact that he was still mad – he walked with great heavy steps into the lounge room and took the remote off of the chair arm, flicking the channel over immediately.

"Hey, what the Hell?"

"I want to watch the television."

She groaned. "Are you _trying _to be a dick tonight?"

"What's wrong? You can just pull another stunt to try and cheat your way out of the argument, can't you?" he replied quickly, and there was an angry undertone in his voice that surprised her. If anything, he sounded even pissier than before. Something seemed to be seriously bothering him, as if he'd gotten even bitterer when having time to think about what had happened.

Now that she suspected it may have been her doing, this whole _kiss_ business, she was slightly less steady when she shot back, "I should be asking you the same thing."

He flicked the channel again and she reached out to kick him. Deftly dodging, he smirked and changed the program a third time. She gave an indignant huff of rage and threw the nearest thing – her copy of _Persuasion_ – at his head. A perfect blow. He stumbled slightly, dropping the remote, and she seized it with a demonic grin, punching in the number for her channel. He'd taken it back from her grasp within seconds though, flipping to something completely random.

That was it.

"Oh, what's wrong?" he said sharply as she stood slowly. "Out of books to use or cheat tactics to employ?"

That was _so _it.

"Looks like you don't always win . . ."

That was _so freaking _it.

" . . . Liar."

Explosion. In one movement she had snatched his shirtfront, looking at him with furious burning eyes. He stiffened suddenly, not expecting the sudden onslaught, and she stared right up into his face, her chest heaving. "You want to see a fucking distraction, Evans, I'll _give _you a distraction!"

And she kissed him.

Easy.

As natural as breathing.

This time, it was more solid than before, as she actually knew what was going to happen when going into it. She slanted her mouth against his in one fluid action, pressing down on his lips with her own. Her hand was still tight in his shirt, keeping him where he was, and, to her great and distant amusement, he'd gone completely still. That would teach him to pin the blame on her. It couldn't have been her kissing him last time – if it had been, it would be more like this. She had the upper hand –

And then he kissed her back. It was like he finally caught up with her, and she felt his arm reach up to grab hers where she pinned him to her. His other one was on her side, and his lips began to move with hers in a steady rhythm. All thoughts of victory went out of her head. _Shit_. She'd been on the attacking front a moment ago, ready to win this argument – and maybe enjoy herself kissing him while she did so – and now she was having to do her best to not completely forget that she was even _meant _to be fighting him.

Because she was kissing him and _he was kissing her back _and, seriously, who the Hell cared about any freaking ice cream?

She pulled away after a moment, and he followed suit, letting go of her. They both stared at each other, just as they had before, but this time he was grinning.

Apparently their responses were more eerily in synch than even _she'd _initially thought.

"Fair point," he said after they'd both grinned like idiots for a few seconds. "_But_, I still maintain that _I'm _watching television now."

" . . . You want to fight about it?"

* * *

*-** Being a coxcomb is to be conceited, pretentious and foolish. 16TH CENTURY SLANG FTW. I actually say these words in public at people, I'm so awkward.**

**** - This varies. If you see Crona as a girl, then this is untrue, as Maka Chops Crona about three times or so. I merely see Crona as completely androgynous, and without a specified gender, so, meh, what the Hell. **

**So, ****_so_**** much ****_italicizing, _****I mean, ****_seriously_****. Sorry. ****_Sorry. _**

**I just combined the request of waytheballbounces (after a kiss scene), Mercury Soul (to stop blueballing and start making out), Professor Maka (not really a request but what up, another Jane Austen reference) and Tenbris (write more kiss scenes) in one go. Boom. **


	20. Chapter 20

_**A/N: **__I do not own Soul Eater or 'On My Own' by Ashes Remain. CrazyCreator33, thanks for the prompt!_

_100 REVIEWS WHAT SERIOUSLY OH MY GOD YOU GUYS. Wow. I can't even fathom the fact that my first story on FanFiction would get any reviews, let alone 100 in under 20 chapters! If I may be so polite, shit! I'm so amazed at the support I get for this story. I also now have over 70 favourites and follows. Just . . . holy poo. You guys._

_And to everyone who is saying that they have recommended me or have had me recommended to them by someone else because they like my writing . . . wow. It's getting emotional up in here!_

**_Thanks:_**Artemis's best Huntress, Ilovecherrypie, SoMa1234, VenShiRoku, Coldwinters, SassySimoneEvans _(consider it done! I'll get to writing that soon!)_, 'Guest' _(I laughed writing that, glad it was funny to others, haha!), _MsPoisonIsley _(my best guy friend accidentally called me a whore today because of the role I have to play in our current study. Never livin' it down.)_, lizakimiko_ (Thank you!)_, Robastar34 _(I know, right, total Spirit-worthy flirts), _CrazyCreator33 _(always glad of your approval, aha!)_, sneag _(yet, my friend . . .)_, Mercury Soul _(There we go, they acted all kissy just for you! They soooo would, glad you liked that one *smileyface*)_, Professor Maka _(I think I just cried a lil', and I'll never not-appreciate your Austen fangirling with me!)_, Tenbris _(Woe is you, dear friend. I'm just trollin' ya! YES THAT MEANS YOU'RE WRITING A KISS SCENE GO!)_, waytheballbounces _(Because that story was for you and because of your suggestions, thank you!)_, ejnsofi _(Oh my God I made someone a SoMa shipper I can die happy!)_, and SmartieBlondie _(thank you so much for that!)_

_This chapter is for _SmartieBlondie_ for believing I am a good enough writer to be recommended to people. Thank you so much. _

_So, as a massive thank you to everyone, here's number 20!_

* * *

**TWENTY – SURRENDER MY SOUL**

_I don't wanna be incomplete,  
I remember what you said to me,  
You don't have to fight alone.  
- 'On My Own'_, Ashes Remain.

* * *

_"Shit!"_

That was the last thing Soul heard before the massive force of rushing winds collided with his scythe shaft, and he began to tumble blade-over-pole toward the ground at incredible speed. His sickle hit the side of the cliff face in its mad somersaulting descent, causing him to cry out in pain. His eyes were already shut, bracing for the impact, because this was going to hu –

_IMPACT._

It was unclear which part of the scythe hit the ground first, but he definitely _hit_ the ground. His pole bent at an alarming angle and then rebounded suddenly, being flung off into the trees before he even had time to blink.

"Look, for the hundredth time, I _said_ I was _sorry_," Maka said in a low voice, staring at the ground. She flinched when she heard the sound of pain as he tried to move around on the bed without grazing any injured parts of his body.

This was kind of hard, considering everywhere was injured.

Soul gave out another little hiss as he hit his shoulder on the bed. Maka shook her head and told him to stop moving, but he ignored her and did some sort of weird little shimmy into a sitting position on the hospital bed, tugging on the bandages on his arm to try and allow the poor limb to actually breathe. . . or, if it didn't breathe, at least not lose circulation.

She scratched her cheek. "So, am I forgiven now, or what?"

" . . . Nope."

She pushed back her chair quickly, standing up to look down at him. He could see the pain in her eyes, as well as the frustration, and knew what the cause was. It was her fault that he was here, and she was having a hard time coming face to face with the knowledge. Maka nibbled her lip fretfully, but her eyebrows were creased to show her displeasure with him as she said, "Soul, come on! I've said sorry so many times now, and you _know_ that I mean it. I feel so terrible for getting you all banged up like this, but I don't know how I'm going to get past it if you keep on acting the way that you are."

"Well," he said with drawn breaths, trying to stay still, "that's your own problem, isn't it? Until you work out what you did, I'm not going to forgive you, so deal with it." And he stuck his nose in the air, in semblance of his childhood years.

Was he acting like a child right at this moment? Oh, Hell yes he was. He could feel the impact of his own immaturity, could feel it worming its way into Maka's usually-calm wavelength and sticking its roots in. She sighed, turning away from him and searching through her bag for something or other, giving him momentary relief from his eyes. He knew that she was feeling guilty. He could see it in her every movement, see the pain that it was causing her to see him completely incapacitated like this. It hadn't been her fault that they were taken by surprise when the tainted soul they were fighting somehow managed to duplicate itself before it was initially killed. Both of them knew this, even if she was a perfectionist and therefore didn't want to admit it. It also wasn't her fault that she was wary of its poisoned claws, which could even penetrate a Weapon through their transformed state. They'd done fine in dodging the first soul's attacks, but they hadn't been prepared for the second one. None of her reactions to the situation, nor her misconceptions about the defeat of the first opponent, could be blamed on her.

The thing that Soul was mad at her for had nothing to do with any of that. It was what she did when the unseen tainted soul had attacked them, reaching down to hit him with that painful, paralysing toxin on its claws. She'd jerked back her arm.

One simple movement.

But that movement had been so much _more_, because it had kept him out of the firing line of the attack, despite leaving her wide open to a follow-up. It was lucky for the two of them that the stupid thing had misjudged its leap, and ended up falling over the low cliff ledge they were battling on. What wasn't lucky for them was the fact that its huge tail somehow managed to hit her arm, making her release her grasp in surprise. This grasp was in the right hand. And what was in her right hand?

One Soul 'Eater' Evans, in scythe form, who had promptly been knocked off of the cliff face and down to the hard ground below.

So now he was stuck here, acting like a little brat in his hospital-style infirmary bed, wrapped in an almost-comical amount of bandages from where he'd transformed while rolling down a thorny incline after the landing. Maka was torn in a very emotional state – on one hand, she was blaming herself immensely for letting Soul get hurt to such an extensive degree on a mission. On the other, however, she was starting to get aggravated with his prissy-shit attitude.

"I don't get what you mean," she said quietly and fiercely now. "I _know_ what I did. I lost focus in the fight and because of that, you got hurt, and now you're mad at me because I wasn't careful enough. Trust me; you can't be angrier at me than I am at myself. But this isn't like you. Why are you behaving like this?"

He scoffed. This fucking _idiot_ really had no clue, did she? "No, Maka, you really _don't_ get it. You're nowhere near getting it. You think that's why I'm – you know what, fuck it. Work it out yourself. I thought we'd passed this by now."

She flinched and he got the horrible feeling that she was crying. But no, she could cry, and he wouldn't back down. Not this time. The meister guided the weapon, right? Yeah, but the weapon protected the meister. That was how it went. So, if she was going to mess with one end of the scale, he'd make her screw up her part too. So he turned his head away from her and looked out the window, a full scowl on his face.

"Soul . . . I don't . . ."

Soul sighed. He didn't want to put her through this. But she had to learn, and so did he. "Seriously. This time, I mean it. Talk to me when you figure out what you did."

"But I already said - !"

"It's not the fucking fact that you threw me off of the cliff!" he said angrily, shaking his head and eyeing her furiously. "I don't care that I got hurt, jeez! Don't be such an idiot!"

She just stared at him wordlessly for a few seconds. That was all it took for him to see her eyes starting to water, her nose scrunching up and the high blush on her cheeks. "Fine. I'm – I'm sorry, Soul."

He was still staring resolutely out the window when she left.

* * *

"And – now – he won't even talk – to me!" she said in a bitter voice, letting the sobs overtake her. They wracked her small frame and it almost hurt to talk around her crying, but she had to do it. She had to get this out to someone. Someone needed to hear about how small and pathetic a meister she was, not even being able to hold onto her own weapon while being attacked, not even being able to understand his anger when he was so hurt. . .

Maka buried her face in her arms. A moment later, a soothing hand was placed sympathetically onto her back as Tsubaki started to rub circles there. The older girl quietened Maka by telling her to take deep breaths and get a hold of herself, all the while sadly staring at the top of her ashy-blonde head.

"So," the Dark Arm weapon said after a slight pause, allowing her to catch her breath and form a reasonable answer, "he's upset because you . . . because he fell off of the cliff? That doesn't sound like Soul-kun."

"No," Maka said, wiping her nose on her sleeve heavily and sniffling, letting her eyes run. She would not cry freely in front of anybody like she did Tsubaki. Not even Soul, that stupid partner of hers who was only making her realise _more_ just how incompetent she was. "He said it wasn't – it wasn't that. He's mad at me for something else, but he won't tell me what, and now he hates me!"

"He doesn't hate you," Tsubaki hurriedly assured, trying to pat her back again while she wriggled uncomfortably. "This is _Soul-kun_ we're talking about, Maka-chan! He could never hate you, no matter what you did."

"Well, it doesn't look like that to me. You should have seen him. He was –" Her breath hitched again but she took a deep inhalation of humid air, urging herself to stay in control of her words. "He was really mad. I don't think I've ever seen Soul – like this. He's my partner, but he won't even look at me. I can't think why he's – so upset."

When Tsubaki gave no answer, she turned back to her quickly. The older girl was staring down at her lap, where her fingers were entwining nervously. She seemed to be trying to hold back from saying something, and her slanted eyebrows showed that she was clearly troubled. Maka gave her a scrutinizing glance, but could not see anything wrong with her. Did Tsubaki need to tell her something, and was just holding back because she had a problem to cry about? Was she that bad a friend to the girls, as well  
as her weapon? Was she a terrible person?

" . . . Tsubaki?"

"Yes?"

"What's wrong?"

"I . . . well, um, I don't know if it's my place to say, if he told you that _you_ needed to work it out."

She inhaled swiftly. "Are you saying that _you_ know why he's mad at me?"

" . . ."

"Tsubaki, please. If you know something that I don't, tell me. He never keeps important things from me, not when they concern our partnership." When the other weapon said nothing, she pushed out her lip, feeling her upset mood rising again. "Please."

"But – are you sure?"

"Yes, I need to know."

Tsubaki sighed, nodded, fiddled with her hands a little more and then looked up slowly. She had a guilty look in her eyes, as if she felt that she should not be divulging the information she had, but nevertheless started with, "I don't know if it's the reason that Soul-kun is upset, but – but I think I might know why he's mad with you."

"What? What is it? Did he say something to Black*Star or . . . ?" Maka could feel the anticipation and dread building inside of her. What was it that was making her weapon so angry, if he wasn't mad about her causing him injury? Had he seen something or heard something that she didn't know about? Had he . . .

Oh Death. Had he found out that she _liked him?_ As far as she knew, only Tsubaki was privy to that information, but she might have let it slip around Black*Star unintentionally and then the word might have spread to Black*Star's "_best bro_" and then – what would she do?

" – Because you dodged," Tsubaki finished. Maka blinked, having been so caught up in her sudden fear that she missed the speech. "I think that might be it."

"What might be it?"

The weapon sighed. "I said, I think the reason he is upset at you is because you dodged the attack."

"_What?"_ Maka exclaimed, starting up without meaning to. "That doesn't make any sense! Why would he be mad at me for making sure I don't get hit?"

"Well," the other girl said timidly, afraid of awakening Maka's violent tendencies while she was still in such an upset mood, "you said that you moved so he was behind you, didn't you?"

"Yeah – I didn't want him to get hit by the poison. It might have gotten through."

Tsubaki nodded. "And that's Soul-kun's problem. He's not worried about being hurt – although that might be a bad side effect of the mission – but rather worried." At Maka's blank look, she sighed and pressed on, "You know, I don't think he ever really got over the fact that you would rather keep him safe than yourself. I know this as a weapon, whose duty is to protect their meister. You may not understand it perfectly, Maka-chan, and forgive me for saying that, but it is a weapon's first priority to keep their partner safe. We need to do it – it's our purpose. The fact that you would place him out of harm's way and leave yourself vulnerable to an attack, seeing as you . . . have had a problem like that before, that might be what's upset him so much."

_Oh. _"Oh." Suddenly, everything made sense. She blinked, once, twice. How could she have been so stupid? Of course Soul would get mad at her for something like that. He was such an overprotective idiot all of the time, and she had to admit that their fights did not go well when she didn't block with him. She hadn't even thought about it at the time, merely wanting to make sure that he was out of harm's way until she could think of a new battle plan. It _had_ left her completely unable to stop the tainted soul's next move, had it made one. It was like puzzle pieces falling into place. Him getting so mad at her sadness at him being hurt. Angrily yelling that that wasn't the problem. He was furious, all right – because she'd scared him. Twice, she'd neglected to use him, and once he had been sliced open, the other forced to fight Giriko by himself. She'd probably frightened the Hell out of him, making him remember times when she shut down. This time hadn't been anything like that, but, if their roles were reversed, she'd be _breathing fire _at him. So now his rage wasn't surprising.

He was just worried about her, and in typical Soul-style, didn't know how to express this without yelling.

"Maka-chan?" Tsubaki asked. "Did I offend you? I'm terribly sorry."

"No, no, not at all! Actually," she said, standing quickly and rubbing at her puffy eyes, "I understand now! Thank you, Tsubaki! I – I need to go see Soul now, okay?"

* * *

Soul just looked at her, shaking his head slowly. "It took you fucking long enough to figure it out. I see you went and had a good cry for a while?"

The words were harsh, but his tone was not. He still did not sound pleased, but at least he was talking to her. There was even a ghost of that irritating smirk on his face as he reprimanded her. "Oh, shut up," she replied. "I just – I didn't get it until now. I'm sorry for making you fret like that."

"Tch. You're just lucky my hair is already white, woman."

She smiled. Yes, he was definitely back to normal. "I remember what you said, you know. You told me, when we were fighting Giriko, that I wasn't fighting alone. That we're two in one."

His eyes softened. "Yeah. I did."

"Well, then, it all makes sense!"

"Huh?"

"If we're two in one, then, in order to be more like you, I _have _to be an idiot sometimes!" she finished brightly.

"If I weren't stuck in this bed," Soul said with a curled lip, "_you'd_ be the one needing it."

"Oh, scary." She flicked him on the nose, making him scowl and start. "No, don't, we were just getting back to being civil! If you kill me that will all just go out the window."

"Meh. At least then I can make you go out the window too."

"Oh, come on, you know if _you_ dropped _me_ like that," Maka said lightly, not surprised that she and Soul were able to make up this quickly, "I'd go on about it for weeks. You're just more tolerant than me." And she leaned down and kissed him quickly on the forehead, a little peck to show that yes, she truly was sorry, and they truly had made up.

His reaction was amusing. In a few seconds, the blood spread all over his face, and she was surprised to see her weapon of all people emit such a blush. He remained perfectly still, as well, looking down, and for a moment she thought she had really stunned or embarrassed him into being speechless. Well, that was until he finally caved.

"You're leaning on my arm and I think if you don't move, I might cry."

And they were back to themselves in a heartbeat, although neither could pretend that theirs wasn't still thumping fast as Maka's apologies started up once again.

* * *

**STILL 100 REVIEWS OH MY GOD.**

**My next update may be late (in, say, 5 days?) because I have a camp to attend, and there's no laptops or WiFi going on out in the bush. Just kangaroos. Feel free to get annoyed~~**


	21. Chapter 21

_**A/N: **__I do not own Soul Eater or the song 'Young and Beautiful' by Lana Del Rey. This song as a score overture in The Great Gatsby, oh my God, the whole thing is beautiful. Also, _SassySimoneEvans_, this is an indirect take on the 'sleepover' fic. Sooooo not a sleep over fic, but the thought is there, right? It indirectly prompted this. _

_Oh, and the lyrics are not meant to imply Black*Star/Soul in any way, it's just in general with thoughts about growing up. You know what I mean? I didn't take it literally. Everyone fears growing older and losing bonds because of it. _

_SPOILERS FOR THE END OF THE MANGA AND EVERYTHING, THE ENTIRE END OF THE STORY. Massive spoilers. And as this is a conversation between Black*Star and Soul, the swearing is pretty high. Sorry. _

_I survived camp, thank you to everyone who expressed concern over drop bears. Only four students were eaten, so I count that as a good trip. Sorry I was a bit late updating, only one day, but I'm really happy with how this one turned out, so hopefully it's all good._

**_THIS CHAPTER IS DEDICATED TO TENBRIS BECAUSE HEY, CONGRATULATIONS, THIS TIME 20 YEARS AGO YOU WERE ALL PINK AND WRINKLY AND COVERED IN BLOOD AND LOOKED LIKE A POTATO WHILE SOME STRANGER CUT OFF A CORD IN YOUR STOMACH. HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY!_**

* * *

**TWENTY-ONE –ELECTRIC SOUL  
**_I've seen the world,  
Done it all,  
Had my cake now._

_Will you still love me,  
When I got nothing but my aching soul?  
- 'Young and Beautiful', _Lana Del Rey.

* * *

He stared at the ceiling, flexing the muscles in his right arm absent-mindedly, and let out a long breath between his teeth

Whose idea had this been, anyway? If he remembered right – which he probably didn't, because it was something like three in the morning and he was desperately searching for anything resembling sleep – it was Black*Star, who said that the whole group had been too distant lately, with everyone off doing their own thing instead of just hanging out and goofing off like in the 'good old days.'

_Now, really_, Soul thought drily as he watched the overhanging fan complete another lazy rotation, futilely attempting to combat the Hellish heat of Nevada, _what did that idiot think was _going _to happen?_

They were all growing up now, or at least shouldering more workloads. Kid was the ruler over Shibusen and half the world – he was _Shinigami-sama_ now for crying out loud! And Liz and Patti were practically his seconds-in-command when it came to anything remotely stressful. They'd both completely stepped up to the role of Shinigami's personal assistants, yet in a more tasteful and slightly less obedient way.

He and Maka were taking on all of the strenuous missions that only Death Scythes and three star meisters could handle. As there was now not only an alliance with witches but a set and limited number of Death Scythes, the tasks they were given were both mentally and physically intense. Asura and witches aside, the world was still filled with the horrible, the weird and the downright ugly, and who was going to deal with it if not him and his kick-ass meister?

Black*Star was becoming less of a human and more of a Bushin every day. Tsubaki – well, in between caring for and training Angela, working as a contact for the Japanese branch of meisters and weapons as a representative of Shibusen _and _the Nakatsukasa clan, and helping Black*Star to train and conquer not only the Enchanted Sword but the path of the warrior, she was practically always doing something for someone else.

Maybe that was why Black*Star had organised this whole thing. Trying to let Tsubaki cool down and have some time to enjoy herself, rather than doing more running around than competitors in the New York marathon.

Everyone had seemed really enthusiastic to just head on over to the Gallows mansion and 'chill' for the day and night, when the idea had been put out. They'd all shown up, bringing pyjamas and movies and every single piece of junk food that the nearest four countries could muster up, and the evening had been an absolute ball. After five months of work, it was nice to be able to sit back and goof off.

But now, as Soul lay on the couch and mapped out every single piece of shadow on the roof of the living room he and everyone else had crashed in, he couldn't help but feel rather . . . pessimistic.

Was it always going to be like this, when all of them eventually aged? Would the group be constantly trying to meet up among their strained activities and roles, all the while slowly drifting further and further away until they were nothing more than a scar and a memory? What about each individual partnership? Although all seven of them, meisters and weapons alike, were working hard to stay very connected with their respective partners, there could come a time when all of that was a mere fragment of mind, a reminiscence on teenage years. Soul could not see him and Maka growing distant any time soon, and knew that he would do whatever he had to in order to stay by her side, but would there be a day when this wasn't enough?

"Man, you're _still_ up?"

He turned his head to the side quickly, his eyebrow raised, and was surprised to see Black*Star of all people perching himself on the couch's arm. He scooted his legs over so the meister could sit down, and nodded in answer of his question. "I forgot to take my meds last night, so I don't know how long I'll be up before I crash."

Black*Star whistled, a low sound so as to not wake up everyone else in the room. There was a time when he wouldn't have given two shits, but he'd grown up so much in the last few years that he had the presence of mind to allow others to sleep. That was both an amazing and frightening thought to Soul. One piece of evidence among many that things were not how they had always been, and that they would likely never be how they were again.

He was distracted when the other boy said, "So, you still need to take those pills, then? I thought that shit wore off a while ago. Didn't Screw-ball do something, give you wavelength concentration things?"

"Yeah, he did. I don't need to take the meds much, just once every few weeks now. But since I was meant to take them this morning and I had to go deal with a tainted soul that went on warpath instead, I totally blanked."

"That's harsh," Black*Star said, shaking his head. "Even Gods need their sleep, bro."

"Well, I'm not one of those, 'Star, not like you and Kid, so I'd settle for a human amount of sleep any day, anyway." Now that the moon was just one ball of Black Blood – as retrieval operations for Crona were at a complete standstill, and had been for quite some time while the alliance with the witches and enthronement of Kid passed by – Soul had been having trouble sleeping. It wasn't surprising, really – he'd always reacted to spikes in the Black Blood, especially when Crona was involved, so now that the moon of all things was a glob of Crona's _essence_, or whatever, it was like a constant indent to his wavelength. He'd grown used to it, the pressure at night, and with Maka's help and some of Stein's weird techniques of focus, managed to get a somewhat decent sleep pattern going. That had taken three and a half months, though. While still on such a short probationary period, the Death Scythe was not surprised that a slip in medication doses would cause him to lose precious shut-eye until the dark sphere of the once-grinning moon slipped harmlessly back down the horizon for another dawn.

Soul and Black*Star sat in companionable silence for another minute or so, before the latter said, "D'you think it's working, then?"

"What's working?" the former replied, confused and tired.

"The sleep-over thing. Sure, we're gettin' a bit old for this shit, but I just wanted Tsubaki to be able to have some fun. Reckon it worked?"

_I knew it_, Soul thought. He said, "She was smiling and enjoying herself today, so it's safe to say that everything went pretty good, as far as I'm concerned."

"Good. I – my best and most loyal follower needs to be taken care of."

" . . . Why," the weapon said after a pause, "doesn't anyone see this side of you? I swear, you're so different in public, man. If Tsubaki saw you all caring and shit like this, you wouldn't even need to worry about whether she likes you or not. It's like I'm the only person to see the mature side of you."

"Nuh-uh," Black*Star said, jutting out his lip. "Tsubaki knows all about my 'kind, lovey-dovey' side. It's just not a 'cool' one – isn't that what you'd say?"

"Liking other people and wanting to make them happy ain't uncool, 'Star."

The meister had a grin on his face now as his hands scratched at his blue hair to stop it from falling. "If 'liking' people was uncool, you'd be the most uncool idiot ever around Maka, wouldn't you?"

"Hey, I was being nice a minute ago, you little fucker –"

"And so you should be. I'm your _God_."

_And there he is, right back to normal._ While it was true that Soul, as Black*Star's best friend and ultimate 'bro', knew him in a different way to other people as far as his reasons for being so loud and obnoxious went, that didn't mean that the blue-haired ninja had changed _so _much.

"So," he said on a sudden impulse, fuelled by thoughts of the change in his best friend's behaviour through the years, "does it ever worry you to think about, you know, like five years from now?"

Black*Star cocked his eyebrow. "I live in the here and now, man. Why the Hell do I gotta' care about five years from now?"

"'Coz – think about it. You had to organise something so we could all meet up _now_, and when _you're_ organising shit, you know something's up."

"Hey!"

"I ain't taking it back."

"Whatever, screw you," Black*Star said, but then surprisingly added, "I have to say, it's hard to think that far ahead, you know?"

"Why?"

"'Coz with us, shit changes so fast that it takes a big man like me to keep up with it all. I wouldn't be surprised if you're still behind and worrying!"

"Shhh, people are asleep, you moron!" Soul hissed, smacking his friend in the arm. Maka was in a room just down the hall, and if either of them woke her up with their conversation . . .

Well, he'd lived with her for five years now. He _knew_ how that shit would end, and if his wasn't one, she'd force him to clean up the bodies afterwards.

"Crap!" the meister said. "Hope Tsubaki didn't hear that. Or Kid," he said on an afterthought, "because if he doesn't get his eight hours sleep, you know we're never gonna' hear the end of it. And I can't be fucked to listen to that. It's so hard, trying not to punch him now that he's Shinigami-sama, because apparently, it's _treason_ to mess up a guy when he's being a cockhead, all because of some stupid mask."

"Oh, lay off, you're just shitty 'coz he made you go to Britain for a mission last week when _Shark Week_ was on."

"Fuck off, _Shark Week_ is _the shit_, don't you mess with them, especially when you look like them - !" He was cut off when Soul slapped a hand over his mouth, trying to quieten him once more. When the hand was removed, the blue-haired boy took a deep breath. "Jeez, you're so tied up at the moment. Even more than usual. What's up, is Maka talkin' to a guy or something?"

"What? No. And don't make jokes like that when anyone else is in a hundred mile radius, fuckwit!" he hissed under his breath, momentarily angered. While Black*Star had truthfully – and shockingly – kept his word when saying that he'd let slip no trace of Soul's feelings for Maka, that didn't mean he wasn't going to be a dick about it to the scythe himself. "I'm just – you got a lot of time to think about shit when you don't sleep well. And I've been thinking. What if we just . . . all go separate ways?"

"Huh?"

"Well, think about it. Our work is only going to get harder and we're gonna' have to grow up _some _time. What'll happen when we do? Will we even see each other?"

Black*Star scratched his head, yawning. "I don't get it. Why wouldn't we?"

"Because – fuck, were you even listening?"

"I'm _tired_, Soul, and you're using big words! Or, long sentences, or some shit."

"Whatever man, don't worry. I'm probably just talkin' shit because I'm tired too," Soul grumbled, blearily rubbing his eyes. He knew that wasn't it, but he didn't know how to word what he really wanted to say. So he let it slip, muttering that he thought it was time to go to sleep for real.

"Same here, dude. Night, and if you can't sleep, think of it as a command from my Mighty presence, and you'll _have _to obey my order."

"Sure, 'Star, sure. G'night."

The other boy went to leave the room, but paused at the door, looking back. His expression was odd. Well, not really – it just looked odd on _him_, because it was almost . . . _thoughtful?_ "Don't worry about us splitting up, bro. We've been through Hell and back already, why not go again for the road trip?" And with that, he was gone. Moments later, Soul heard a door 'snick' closed and almost immediately the loud snores of the ninja meister started up. The stupid prick could sleep easily at any time – unlike him.

Now that Black*Star, and his oddly _serious_ conversation were gone, there was nothing for Soul to do but lie back and look up at the shadowed ceiling once again. His venomous thoughts, unable to be spoken aloud to his best friend, spewed into his mind now.

What would he do if this – whatever it was, camaraderie and actual _friendship_ – cracked apart? While a part of him knew that he wouldn't just lose everything in one go unless there was some sort of horrific disaster, he still felt uneasy. What if he lost his meister? Maka might not want to continue working so hard after school finished, or if she did, she might want to try training some new weapons for the benefit of Shibusen. She'd sworn never to leave him, and he to her, but now that the world was not in mortal peril and there was no _immediate_ risk of Kishin activity, would all of that change? Where would he go, what would he do, if it did? Sure, he still had a family, but Death City was his _home_.

What had he been before here? Just another shadow, sitting on the walls and the ceiling and waiting to be taken away by the touch of the light. Here, he was _something_. Hell, he was even close to being the _best_ at something, if he really thought about how far he and Maka had come together. Could he really lose all that? He'd been getting better with coming to terms with himself, with everything.

But nobody could keep up their umbrella against the winds of a storm. He wouldn't have coverage, protection from the negative thoughts that had occupied his childhood, not if everything left him in one go, like it would, like everything always did - !

His second visitor for the night- or rather morning – came in less subtly than Black*Star. She flipped on the switch in the room, stepping nimbly over Patti's sprawled giraffe doll and all of the other remnants of the earlier sleepover antics. Everyone had gone to rooms to sleep now. So had Maka. But now she was here, blinking in the harsh light that she'd turned on and peering down at him with accusatory eyes.

"What are you still doing up?" she asked with slurred speech, rubbing at her eyes to try and appear more awake.

He cringed. "I kind of forgot to take my meds."

"You _what?_ Now your sleep is going to be bad for days, Soul," she reprimanded him, trying to look firm with her hands on her hips and glaring eyes while fighting back a yawn.

"My own fault," he said tiredly, "so don't worry. There are episodes of _Friends_ on at this time of the morning for when I can't sleep."

"But it's bad for you to miss sleep!"

"Well, _you're_ missing it right now!"

"I –" she cut off, crossing her arms. "I could hear you, and you were keeping me awake."

"Wasn't me, it was Black*Star, _he's_ the Human Megaphone."

She looked at him oddly. "I wasn't talking about your voice. I meant your wavelength."

"Huh – oh, sorry. I didn't even think, I must have accidentally slipped resonance." They could always pick up frequencies from each other when in a mood. Like Soul certainly was now.

"All good," she said sleepily, patting his arm. After a wide yawn, she padded back toward the door, and he assumed that her scolding was over, but instead she merely switched off the light and came back over to him. Before he could protest, she was settling into the couch and seizing a sleeping bag from the ground to use as a blanket.

"What're you doing?"

"You can sleep better when I'm using my wavelength against the Blood, so I think that instead of stimulating the effects by being pessimistic and bitter, you should let me sleep here so that I can cancel out or block the frequency of the insanity."

" . . . Only _you_ could be three steps from asleep and pull off a fucking perfect piece of textbook-worthy speech. They'll be using your sleep-talking as inspirational presidency speeches one day, bookworm."

"Shut it," she said weakly, leaning her head on his shoulder and giving another smaller yawn before letting her eyes slide closed.

It was a few moments before he said, "Thanks."

She merely smiled and pushed him half of the blanket. He knew from experiences after dealing with Maka's nightmares that she was a blanket hog, but he may as well savour getting any sort of warmth when he could, so he pulled it over his legs and leaned back. Already his discomfort, his alertness, was fading. Listening to the steady rhythm of Maka's wavelength, he let himself fall quietly into sleep.

Maybe in five years, he would have no reason to worry. But, even if he did, he would take a leaf out of Black*Star's book and cross that bridge when he came to it. For now, he was perfectly content to enjoy watching the shadows, and thinking of the light that had chased them all away.

* * *

**AND MY METAPHORS ARE BACK BABY. **

**_Shark Week~_**

**_Important Question:_**As my upcoming Halloween fic seems so anticipated, do you want it as a chapter in this story, or a stand alone fic in which I can have a bigger word limit? I don't mind either, you choose! Just PM me or leave it in the Reviews, or write a message in a bottle and address it to the dropbears. Whatever tickles your fancy. Thanks!


	22. Chapter 22

_**A/N: **__I do not own Soul Eater or the song 'Never Love A Wild Thing' by Diviney._

_**IMPORTANT INFORMATION ABOUT THE UPCOMING HALLOWEEN FICTION!**____By popular demand, the Halloween story that I will be posting for the holiday will be a STAND ALONE STORY SEPARATE TO ACCELERANDO. This is to allow a bigger word limit, and as I am doing this for all of those people who requested, your opinion made the decision! It will have the title,_

_'EVERYBODY SCREAM'_

_and is referenced to The Nightmare Before Christmas (my all-time favourite film). It will be posted between October 30 and November 1, as I don't know when it will appear for my American readers (time zones, sad face!). Sorry if this sounded like a plug, it's just information for those of you requesting it! So get ready, and keep watch. Everybody's waiting for the next surprise~!_

**_My 'thank you' section won't let me post at the moment, but I'll do a double-up next round. Sorry, you're all amazing! My computer just hates me, feel free to try and take its life, or harddrive, whatever. _**

* * *

**TWENTY-TWO – NO ONE CAN TAME YOU**

_'Coz monsters like me,  
We're no good for you.  
And you won't believe,  
The shit I could do.  
- 'Never Love A Wild Thing'_, Diviney.

* * *

Her brain was screaming at her that something was wrong, her heart was hammering in her chest and overall, she was in an icy cold sweat, yet she could not move. Maka stayed rooted to the spot, staring down at the ground with parted lips, her breathing shallow.

He watched back. Or did he? Was it him, looking over at her as he was so prone to do, or was it something else? Something that had taken over the shell that was him, shoving everything previous aside and manning the wheel?

Maka flinched, and was horrified to see his mouth curve upwards into a smirk. He was _enjoying_ the fact that she was afraid. Well, _he_ wasn't, but something was. He took one fluid step forward, that smirk growing, and she inadvertently took one step back.

"Don't run away. What's wrong, you don't want to play with me?" he said in a mocking voice, and the moment the words left his lips, she made up her decision. This was not him, no matter what he looked like – it was something _other_, and it had taken over him in a blink.

As her eyes widened with understanding and fear, Soul 'Eater' Evans' grin grew further, along with the scythe that protruded from his arm.

* * *

_"So you're telling me that we're going to have to wait here for it to come and find us?" Soul asked in a whiny voice. Seventeen or not, he could act like a child when he wanted to. And right now was one of those times, or so she thought, because as they shivered in the ankle-deep snow, she could think of nothing more than ways to kill him and shut him up._

_"For the last time, _yes."

"_But why?"_

_"_ _It is attracted to teenagers and it only comes out at midnight. Now, use your brain if you have one. We're teenagers. We're out here at midnight. Hell, we basically have menu prices scrawled on our jumpers. If we wait here, then it'll mean we're away from town when we end this thing. It'll keep innocent lives safe. Death, Soul, think for once."_

_He glared at her. "Don't get shitty at me because you're freezing your ass off!"_

_"I'm not mad about that, I'm mad because you're acting like a three-year-old!"_

_"No I'm not! Three-year-olds can't talk properly and they dribble and spit a lot."_

_"Didn't you use to drool, Soul?" she asked drily, before adding, "And most three-year-olds can speak better than you, idiot!"_

_"You're the idiot!"_

_"What? I came up with this plan and set everything up while you sat and complained about the early flight, and _I'm _the idiot?" she snarled._

_"Yeah. 'Coz when you were planning, you forgot one thing – that it's fucking cold at midnight!"_

_"You wanna' start this?"_

_He snorted and spat out, "Like you could even land a hit – _fuck! _Don't chop me when it's like negative twenty degrees*_, _for Death's sake!"_

_"Oh, stop exaggerating, it's only four degrees*," she said with a wave of her hand._

_"Four degrees?" he started. "_Only_ four degrees – shit, what was that?"_

_"What was what?"_

_"That sound. Shut up for a second and use your Soul Perception, I think it's near."_

_Maka glared at him but did as he said. Sure enough, she could feel the soul close now. It had snuck up on them while they were fighting. She reached out her hand, and Soul immediately obliged, shifting and falling into her open palm in a bright flash of light. She gripped his shaft and twirled it over her shoulder, peering into the darkness._

_"Starting?" he asked quietly._

_She nodded with a grin. "Let's play."_

* * *

\

"S – Soul?" Maka asked in a small voice, feeling her breath clog sharply in her throat as he took another predatory step forward. Soul did not change expression, merely walking toward her with his scary quietness. He was like a panther, stalking its prey. "Soul, what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong with me," he said in a voice so smooth it gave her goosebumps. "You're the wrong one. You don't want to play anymore, and that's not fair."

She gulped. "This isn't funny, Soul! Stop playing around, will you? Hurry up and drop the act so we can go home!" The words were brave, but Maka was disgusted to hear the quaver in her own voice as she tried to firmly address him. Maybe she could fool this . . . whatever it was, into thinking that she was unaware of the situation. Maybe she could reach Soul. What should she do?

Without realising, she'd backed herself into a wall. Maka felt behind her to the clock tower's brick facade, and her stomach dropped as Soul took one big step toward her, leaving him right in front of her. His eyes bore into hers and she was both frightened and oddly captivated at the same time. He never allowed himself to look so fierce around anyone but her, and this expression on his face was hard to contemplate. It grounded her belief that he'd been taken over.

"Now, now. Let me have my fun," he said in a purr. "After all I did to get into this body, the least you could let me do is stick around for a while. While you may not want to play with me, I want to _play with you."_

Her stomach tightened, but she had the wits about her to turn her head to the side in a disgusted manner. "What are you? Where's my partner?"

Soul – or the thing who was not Soul – began to laugh. "I'm not your Soul, Maka Albarn. I'm just a Soul Eater. I'm a Parasite, and I think I rather like this body." He raised his bleeding arm, looking at it with interest. "Do you like it, too? Well, maybe we can share."

_"Jump!" Soul commanded and Maka quickly did what he said, jumping over the tainted soul's reaching clawed hand. The hands dripped with something, some sort of acid, and it looked toxic to the touch. There was a reason a Death Scythe and three-star meister were handling this._

_"Damn it," she hissed under her breath, looking up at the thing. It was tall and scaled, with a flat black head like an alligator's and dark grey body, rather resembling a Golem mixed with the alligator. Its long tail flicked in an animalistic way as it watched them, its red eyes glowing bright. It was hard to believe that this monstrosity was once a human. "How do we get close without hitting the claws?"_

_"It has a bad centre of balance," Soul answered as she pushed off of the ground to get some space from the thing's lurching step. "Swipe at its legs and then jump. Swing down on its head while it's trying to regain its form, and this'll be in the bag."_

_She nodded sharply, ducking to the left of the tail that was coming her way. Doing as he said, she let her body fall closer to the ground before catching herself on her arms and sticking out both feet in a hard donkey-kick. Her feet landed squarely on the tainted soul's stomach, causing it to teeter backwards. As it did, she jumped high, yelling out characteristically as she thrust Soul's blade deep into the creature's head. For a second there was resistance before the sickle sunk through. The thing gave a high yell before slumping back, taking her and Soul's still-stuck and now half-transformed form with it. Maka rolled out of the way and Soul hit the ground with a cry as the thing's body began to shake. He transformed the rest of his body, hissing, and she realised that the way it had landed had trapped his arm with a claw sticking into it. The tainted soul's body folded in until it was no more than a white light, but her eyes were not on it. They were on Soul, who was drawing the claw out of his arm with brutal slowness._

_"Are you okay?" she cried out, moving toward him, but then something made her stop dead._

_He drew the claw out the rest of the way, regarded it for a moment as it sat in his palm coated in his own blood, and then Soul began to laugh._

* * *

Maka ducked away from the wall, cursing under her breath and trying to keep her heart in check. What on Earth could she do to fix this situation? By the looks of things, Soul had completely lost control. His eyes were burning with the same glow as the tainted soul's had. Maybe the previous opponent hadn't been as formidable as they'd thought – maybe it had been hijacked.

_Oh, Death,_ she thought distantly. _What if it wasn't? What if it was just a human being?_

"Maka," Soul drawled, spinning to face her again with his scythe raised loftily. He stroked the sharp blade that came out of his own arm with his opposite hand, eyeing her with hooded lids and a heart-busting grin. She was sickened to realise that, overtaken or not, she still found him attractive. "What are you doing over there now? Come on, you said yourself that we should stop playing around. Now I am. I'll make it nice and quick, so you don't have to keep waiting, okay? Unless . . . you'd like me to string out your death?" Now his face was changing, and the grin was more lewd.

Maka shook her head. He was not like this – not flirty and slow and deliberate, not like her father. She had to find a way to reverse this Parasite's infection, _now_, while there might still be time. How should she do it? Should she resonate with him and try to get his soul to push out the intrusion? Yes, that sounded like a good idea. But how should she get close to him? He looked deathly serious, ready to slice her open. Could she fight him and knock him out long enough to do it?

Another thought occurred to her. Could she _fight him?_

Sure, he pissed her off to no end and she wanted to smash his head through a wall for the majority of their days, but she didn't know if she could actually _fight_ Soul. As in, fight him meaning to incapacitate him. She'd always fought _with _him. Even as she tried to wrap her mind around it, her own inner fibre was protesting. He may be acting off and he may not be even _present_ in his own body right now, but he was her partner. She loved him, and she didn't know if she had it in her to hurt him as she would any other opponent.

"That look on your face tells me you're not thinking about my offer. You're thinking about how to get him out, aren't you?" Soul said, his arms crossed around his sickle. "Well, good luck with that, girlie. You can't get him back. The only way to get rid of me is to kill him, because I've passed myself on from that last body into his now, and I'm kind of comfortable. Are you going to murder this boy's body, and remove his soul?"

"What?" she said in horror, pausing in her setting up of stance to try and fight. "You're wrong. I can get him back!"

"Oh, really?" he replied sharply, and then suddenly he was right in front of her. She gasped in shock and tried to step back, but one of his arms snaked around her back and held her against him, the other waving the blade nonchalantly in front of her. "But, do you want to?"

"What do you mean, of course I –"

"_How do you know?_ You want him, don't you? This boy is special to you," he cooed, and Maka's cheeks lit up. The way that he was holding her, the way that he was so smoothly talking about her feelings for . . . well, _him_, was unnerving. It made her feel uneasy. Another part of her was also wondering if Soul could hear what was going on.

"Don't be ridiculous, he's my partner," she spat, but she couldn't meet those burning eyes.

"You know what happens to liars, now, girlie. But, are you so sure you want him back if you want him so much?"

Maka pushed to get his arm off of her, but Soul held his scythe blade to her throat and she stilled, wide eyed and fearful. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Well, you can _have _him if he stays with my infection, can't you?"

She froze completely, balking. "_Huh?_"

"Look how close you are," Soul said softly, a sly grin gracing his features. Her heart was pounding. "Could you do this if he was still in control of himself? Could you do _this?_" And he pulled her tighter to him.

Maka blushed furiously. That was it – she had to change this situation, now. She tucked in her arm and elbowed Soul in the chest, _hard_. His blade arm fell back as he staggered, and it was enough to give her the slack grip she needed to get out of his hold. She pushed down on his arm and jumped backwards, making sure to dodge when he lunged out angrily toward her.

His eyes narrowed. "I didn't expect that. I thought you wanted him more than that. Maybe you're just stringing him along."

"You're wrong!" Maka said through clenched teeth, ducking away from another swipe. "I don't want Soul because of what he looks like, but because of who he is! He's my partner, he's my friend, and he's  
someone I _trust_. I want _him_, not some shell with a nasty Parasite crawling around inside it."

He cocked his head to the side and she paused. Maybe she'd actually reached him.

And then he began to laugh. It was a spine-chilling laugh, making the hair stand up on the back of her neck, and she felt her knees shake from fear. Soul threw his head back, letting out roaring, insane laughter, and he held his stomach as if it was all too much. "You're hilarious, Maka!" he choked out between gasps of mirth. "To think that you're settled on something as pathetic as _that_ little weak soul. Well, your choice, but still - !"

"Shut up!" she yelled angrily, readying herself in fighting stance. Her previous outburst had prepared her. She would fight him now. This was it. "I'm going to take you down, and then I'll get Soul back, you hear me?"

The laughing stopped immediately. "No, I don't think you will," he said simply, and she didn't even have time to react as the scythe came down, faster, faster, straight into her stomach.

White hot. The blood hit the brick wall. The scream left her throat.

_She _

_was_

**_burning – _**

* * *

Her eyes flew open as she screamed, her hands reaching up to grasp her stomach and try to stop her own life blood from gushing out. Her touch did not reach her stomach, and she looked around wildly, trying to see what was happening and to see if he was there, ready to finish the job. Her green gaze connected with red irises and she let out another, worse scream as she pushed herself back on the bed. She had to get away, away, before he - !

"Maka!" Soul cried out. His hands reached out to try and grab her, hold her down so that he could cut her open, and her back hit the wall. She curled in on herself, trying to keep him as far from her as she could before the Parasite did its job and devoured another victim.

"Get away!" she screamed. "Don't touch me!"

"Maka, wait, stop, you're going to hurt yourself!"

"Get _away!"_ She was out of bed space, and he was going to get her now . . . _Bed space?_

Her lids lifted quickly again and her scream stopped. Yes, that was right. She was on a _bed._ How did that happen? She instantly froze, staring down at her hands. They were clean of blood and she was not wearing her customary black trench coat. Rather, her arms were bare up to the sleeves. She was in some sort of light white garment, and it looked odd given her situation. How had she gotten here? Where was she? Why wasn't she bleeding out, and what was Soul doing right there?

She peeked up at him over her curled-up arms, and paused. He was staring at her with a look of pure shock and not a small amount of hurt, his hands still outstretched as if to try and stop her from lashing out. Maka let her arms drop from pure surprise. This did not look like the Soul that had tried to attack her and stabbed her through. It was not that horrible mockery, ready to end her life. Instead, it was him. He looked absolutely bewildered as he dropped his arms, his mouth still open and his eyes wide as the door of the room began to open.

Her breathing was heavy and she slumped weakly against the wall as she saw Professor Stein of all people coming in. His brow was wrinkled and he quickly pushed Soul aside, blocking him from her vision. This let her hackles drop completely and she closed her eyes slightly, trying to slow her heart.

"P – Professor?" she stuttered weakly. "What – what am I doing here? Where are we?"

"Shibusen's Dispensary," Stein said slowly, keeping his usual drawl out of his voice as he spoke calmingly to her. "We brought you here after you got hit with that poison, remember? Soul brought you back, remember?"

"What poison? What are you talking about?" No, none of this made sense, she'd been in Britain fighting that corrupted soul when her partner had been – _Oh, Death, what's happening?_

Soul cleared his voice behind Stein, but he was quickly shushed by the Professor. "That opponent of yours managed to hit you with its claws and you took in some of the poison from them. It knocked you out and Soul had to arrange for you to be brought back to Nevada, where we patched you up here."

But that couldn't be right, could it? All she remembered was it falling, and taking out Soul, and then his laugh – or did she? Suddenly, those pieces of her memory were falling away. He was no longer laughing but crying out, shaking her shoulders and telling her to _"Wake up, now, damn it!"_ His arms were no longer scythes, but his hand was clenched around a bloody claw as he threw it away in disgust. He wasn't holding her against his chest, but carrying her bridal-style and running down the street, telling her that she shouldn't be playing around like this and scaring him. He was sitting beside her on a small plane. _"Look how close you are,"_ he was saying, _"almost home."_

She fell back against the pillows, hyperventilating, until Professor Stein regained her attention by roughly shaking her arm. She stared up at him. "So it was . . . all a dream?" she asked in shock.

"You were hallucinating pretty badly from the poison, I heard. Whatever you saw," Stein said firmly, "wasn't real."

She wanted to ask more questions, say something else, but only one word could escape her lips. "Soul . . ."

Stein cocked his head to the side, but she only said her partner's name again. After a second, he appeared in her line of vision again, looking down at her in concern, his hands jammed deeply in his pockets. "He's right there, Maka," Stein said.

"Soul," she said a third time, reaching up her arms for him. The message couldn't have been clearer, and the Professor stepped out of the way as Soul stepped forward, letting himself be taken in by her crushing grip. She wrapped her arms around his neck and began to cry into his shoulder, letting all of her fear and horror wash away with her tears. After a moment, he returned the embrace, and that was when Stein felt it was appropriate to leave the room.

"I'm right here, it's okay," he said soothingly, rubbing her back, and as he did, she decided it.

She could never, would never fight him. If he wanted to take her soul, it was his.

And although she didn't know it, she would always have his in hand, too. In perfect resonance.

* * *

*** - Australian temperature, in degrees Celsius. Not polar ice caps.**

**See you in a few days for 'Everybody Scream.' I'm excited now. Yay!**


	23. Chapter 23

_**A/N: **__I do not own Soul Eater or 'Everybody Talks' by Neon Trees._

_I've been very sick and my birthday was yesterday (Sunday). I apologise for my lack of updating in the last two weeks, and I'll make it up by getting back in the routine. It's been a hectic, sleepless, tear-filled, sickly and hard two weeks. I've also been working on Everybody Scream around that so I haven't been able to write. But here's the update!_

**_This is for Tenbris and SassySimoneEvans because I'm not dead, and I'm sorry. _**

* * *

**TWENTY-THREE – WORDS GOT IN THE WAY**

_I'm a sorry sucker,  
And this happens all the time.  
I found out that,  
Everybody talks.  
- _'_Everybody Talks,_' Neon Trees.

* * *

It started with a whisper. Just a tiny little muttering in the back of his mind while he slipped on his shirt in the boys' locker room, having recently finished his Combat class for the day. Soul thought he heard somebody say his name, followed by sounds to hush, but when he turned he saw nobody looking at him. There was a group of guys a year or so younger than him clustered together and talking animatedly. However, they weren't giving him their attention, so he shrugged it off, dismissing it as being all in his head.

It happened again during lunch as he stood in line to buy a soda. There were people in the queue behind him, and every once in a while he would get the bizarre feeling that people were talking about him. However, he couldn't catch anybody in the act, so he allowed himself to shrug it off and get his drink. On his way back to the table, he _knew_ he heard his name being said, followed by a loud chorus of giggling, but he didn't even bother to turn. Soul merely hunched up his shoulders and walked over to the table he and his friends shared, a scowl now pinned on his face.

"Hey, man, what's with the face?" Black*Star asked as he sat down moodily, picking up his apple. "You look like someone just told you your mom* thought you were a girl when you were born."

The weapon blinked twice at the odd comment. "The fuck does that even mean? And it's nothing, I'm just hungry."

"Whatever," his friend said before turning to Liz, who was cutting up Patti's chicken for her. "Did you find out where, then?"

"Huh?" the girl asked, waving the knife in the air suddenly and making the neighbouring Tsubaki gulp and duck. "No, I didn't. I'll keep thinking about it, though. I'm sure I'll get it soon!" She turned to Soul, who had morphed his right index finger into a small blade and was meticulously cutting up his apple. "I bet you know. Where is she?"

"Huh?"

Liz gave him one pointed look before snorting and turning back to the assassin meister. "He doesn't know. You would think _he_ would know, of all people."

"I don't think _anyone_ knows," Tsubaki said glumly, delicately stabbing a piece of salmon from her plate and bringing it to her mouth. "It's a mystery."

Soul was becoming more and more confused with every word, but decided not to push it. He was still paranoid about all of the whispers he was hearing, so his attention was diverted. He was also trying to work out another thing that he'd noticed upon sitting down. "Where's Maka?"

Black*Star gave him a look like he'd just asked what colour the sky was, and said, "What the Hell did you think we were talking about, bro? We're trying to figure out where your little meister's run off to." At the Death Scythe's puzzled look, he leaned in and muttered in a confiding tone, "Stein pulled her out of class at the beginning of Combat, right after the girls and guys split up for the lesson. He looked pretty pissed. We're trying to work out where she's gone and what she did."

Soul blinked twice, surprised. "She left? Shit, I didn't even notice."

"You'd just started sparring with Kilik, I think," Liz said with a glance at her lunch, shaking her head. "But still, seeing as how you're practically always staring over at her whenever you're not ten centimetres away from her, I'd have thought you would've picked up on it. Guys really _are_ dumb."

He didn't push the slur. "So, she hasn't been seen since the Professor came for her? That's weird. It can't have been a mission or anything, because then they would have come and got me . . . right?"

"We said that," the older girl agreed with a nod, stabbing her own chicken and waving it around with her fork as she spoke. "I think she's getting a busting for something, but Black*Star reckons she's too much of a perfect student for that. Tsubaki suggested she's winning an award."

"That'd be like her," he agreed, biting into one of his apple slices, but he still felt a little worried. His friends called him a guard-dog sometimes in the sense that he liked to know where his meister was at all times. It was merely because it was drummed into him to protect her, and he couldn't do that when he didn't know where she was – at least, that was the reason he gave for it. Kid said he had a co-dependency issue; Tsubaki said he was just naturally caring; Liz and Black*Star said he wasn't thinking with his head, and then winked furiously until he got it and reached to behead them with his blade; Patti just made kissy faces before going back to whatever she'd been doing before.

The younger Thompson spoke up now, smiling animatedly. "I bet Maka got too smart, so they had to take her brain out and put it in a really big jar, pick at it and then put in the littler bits so that she'd be all good and stupid again!"

"Uh, Patti, I don't think that's - "

"Maka's gonna' get _stupid!_"

"That'd be super sweet," the meister at the table said with a grin. "She'd finally be the same as her partner!"

"_Hey!_" Soul protested indignantly, reaching to swipe at the other boy's head angrily. "Shut it, 'Star, you've got a pile of bricks in your big head! And Patti, I don't think they're going to take out my meister's brain – actually," he mused, paling, "Stein was the one that came and got her, yeah? So they just might."

"It's as good a guess as any," Liz said, gently patting her sister's arm while she pouted. "_Everyone's_ talking about it. I mean, she's _never_ gotten into trouble before."

He was very tempted to point out that this was untrue, because there had been that time last year when Maka had been caught using her father's identification card to borrow out Level Four books while still being a low-level meister, but decided against it. They'd kept that little incident to themselves as much as they could, because they didn't want Liz and Patti to feel angry that she'd had the manuscript of the Book of Eibon during all of that stressful waiting period, and because Black*Star would never let her live it down if he found out that perfect-student Maka Albarn had gotten something as scandalous as a _detention_. Ox Ford would only make that more fun, too. So instead, he said, "Is _that_ the reason why everyone's been talking about me behind my back today?"

"Uh . . ."

The table's occupants all suddenly became extremely immersed in their lunches. Patti shoved a large piece of chicken into her mouth hurriedly to stop herself from giggling, Liz started to cut up her own food with a fierce intensity, and Tsubaki bit into her salmon so forcefully that she winced at the impact on her jaw. Black*Star took a large gulp of the scythe's soda, as he had no food left of his own. Soul narrowed his eyes at the sudden awkward atmosphere, and upon finding that none of his friends would look him in the eye, focussed his gaze on the ninja weapon. Tsubaki winced and took another bite of her lunch, looking anywhere but at him.

"Tsubaki," he said slowly, crossing his arms. She bit her lip. "Why are people talking about me?" The girl shook her head. _"Tsubaki . . ."_

She let out a small squeak before dropping her shoulders. "Okay. People are whispering because –because there was a group of girls planning to ask you out this afternoon, and we know that you and Maka had a big argument about that last week so we didn't want to make it worse, and so . . . Black*Star said that you were planning to ask out the girl you liked for Thanksgiving!"

It took five seconds for his brain to process this fast stream of words, as Tsubaki had been rushing through while Liz and Black*Star waved and shook their head frantically in the universal sign for 'no!'. However, once he picked out the important parts from the sentence, he dropped the apple core in his hand, the blade transforming back into flesh and bone.

"You. Said. _What_?"

Black*Star put his hands up defensively. "Hey, dude, I was thinking on the spot and trying to save your ass! You should be praying on the ground in thanks for such a Godly bro, not – uh, getting all pale-faced. Seriously, that glare is kinda' scary."

"It's meant to be. You _told people I was going to ask someone out_. Do you know what that's going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"If you thought Maka was going to get mad about girls asking _me_ out, just wait until you see what she does when she thinks I'll ask _them _out," he deadpanned, still giving the meister a flat glare that was starting to make him squirm in his seat.

Liz cocked her head. "Why's she going to get so mad about that?" Her voice came out in almost a purr, reminding him of Blair when she was trying to coax him into giving her some fresh crème. "It's not like it'll affect _her_, right?"

"Yeah, well, she won't see it that way," he immediately shot back defensively.

"But it's not like your partnership will be affected if you ask out a girl. Sure, you might be around less, so she'd get a little bit lonely, but then maybe she could ask out who _she_ liked so she had a guy around. Right?"

"_What?_ Why the fuck would she - ?"

Black*Star immediately caught onto what Liz was trying to do and joined in with a waggle of his eyebrows. "Yeah, man, she wouldn't be too cut up if she thought you were going to ask someone out . . . unless it was _her_."

"Excuse me?" he said incredulously, thankful he'd just swallowed his soda. Otherwise he'd have spat it all over the boy beside him.

The assassin's eyes took on a gleam as he said smoothly, and calmly for his ostentatious nature, "Well, I told those girls that you'd ask out the girl you like for Thanksgiving, yeah? Hmm, now, who _is_ that?"

"Don't start this shit, I _told_ you, she's just my meister! Fuck, I thought you guys were better than to listen to the rumour mill."

"We aren't listening to _rumours_, Soul."

"Shut up," he groaned, taking a long swig of his drink. "I thought we were concerned with where Maka went, not the fact that you all seem to think I'm hopelessly in love with her or something. That wouldn't be cool, and you know it. 'Unrequited' ain't my style."

"Who said anything about 'unrequited' love?" the elder Thompson cut in.

"Huh?"

"We're her girl friends, we know something that you don't," she said in a sing-song voice, examining her nails. Soul turned to Tsubaki again, his eyes narrowed even more intensely than before, and the girl merely sighed, giving up.

"Maka – admitted to me that she _does_ have romantic feelings for someone."

Soul, who had been intensely awaiting her reply, deflated slightly inside, although he kept the same cool mask on the exterior as he said in a bored voice, "That isn't very specific, you know. There are how many guys here?"

"No way!" Black*Star exclaimed. "You mean that bookworm's actually capable of feeling normal stuff? I don't believe it!"

"If you're talking about me, you have _seconds_ to live," a female voice said from behind the meister, making everyone at the table jump. Maka stood with her hands on her hips, a menacing look on her face. Nobody had heard her approach, but now she was here, they all went guiltily quiet. Not only had they been discussing what she might be getting in trouble for, but they'd also been openly talking about her own personal feelings. And not very quietly.

Soul was distracted, however, by the look in her eyes. Although she was undoubtedly directing a fierce look at Black*Star for catching him in the act of insulting her, he could see the conflict behind her gaze. She had clenched fists and her mouth was twisted in a way that he was fairly sure only he would pick up on – it meant that she was hurt.

"Where've you been?" Patti perked up. "Getting your brain all sliced up?"

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing!" Tsubaki swiftly assured, cringing with guilt at speaking her best friend's secret to everyone. "Why don't you just sit down and have some food? They have gourmet chicken salad for lunch, it's really nice. How about I go get you some?"

"No thanks," Maka said, crossing her arms. "Soul, can I talk to you for a second?"

"_Busted,"_ Black*Star said under his breath. "She looks like she's gonna' kill someone. Maybe that's why she was in shit." Liz snickered.

He rounded on the two with a sharp glare. If something was wrong with his meister, he didn't want these two idiots upsetting her more. "Oi! Shut it. How about you mind your own business for once, and then maybe something interesting enough will happen in your _own_ lives to talk about." It was a stinging remark, but he backed himself up by remembering that he had a good reason to be angry at Black*Star. He looked back at Maka. "Coming."

She nodded tightly before turning on her heel and exiting the lunch hall. He couldn't help but notice her tense shoulders.

"Do you think she overheard everything we were talking of?" Tsubaki asked worriedly, moving to leave her seat, but the scythe shook his head.

"I got this."

The table watched him go, all looking slightly sheepish except for Patti, who started to eat again. "I think we went too far this time," the Dark-Arm weapon said.

"Nah." They all turned to Black*Star, who had his arms crossed behind his head with a grin on his face as he watched his best friend leave after his meister. "Soul needs the push sometimes. That's why I said what I did. Backing up his confidence is the best thing to do. After all, she's stubborn, but Maka might not wait for him forever."

The group blinked collectively in surprise. "Black*Star," Tsubaki said with a smile, "that was very . . . deep."

The blue-haired boy snorted. "I'm just sick of waiting for them to eat face already! Now, where's my burger? A Godly man mustn't be left waiting for his meal!"

"Ah. There's the idiot we know."

* * *

Maka sat with a straight back on the high wall facing Death City. Her hands were in her lap and she looked with a cold glare out at the high, crooked buildings. Soul stood behind her rather awkwardly with his hands shoved into his pockets. His meister didn't lift her gaze as she said, "So, you know I got called out of class, yeah?"

"Uh-huh," he confirmed, and waited as she paused. "Professor Stein came and fetched you, right?"

She nodded once. "Yes. I was required to go and . . . get Papa."

He cocked his head to the side. "What do you mean, 'get' him?"

"I told him last week that I'd have a Thanksgiving lunch with him, which is more than he's gotten for the last two years. Yesterday, he asked me if we could reschedule because he had a business meeting. I went and saw Kid to see what it was about and if it could be postponed, because I knew he was glad to spend time with me. Kid said that there was no meeting that he knew of. It turns out . . . that meeting is with a woman." Soul flinched. "So naturally, I yelled at him and made a scene. And he went down to the bar and found himself a whore to drink all of his problems away with. He was still drunk this morning, apparently going all through the night, so he didn't show up to do a report for Shinigami-sama. Kid sent me to go and get him because Stein was needed for a class . . ." She stopped talking and went back to staring at the city, but Soul could see her fingers clenching tightly around the cuffs of her gloves.

_Shit_, he thought wearily. The old man had really put his foot in it this time. "Maka . . ."

"People were talking about it," she said in that same detached voice she'd just used. "I heard them when I dragged his sorry ass back. They were talking about what I was doing, getting pulled out of class, and when they saw him, they started to talk more. He got dressed, but he was still stumbling, and it didn't help that I gave him a black eye."

"Serves him right, that stupid fucker."

At this, a small smile graced her features, but it soon slipped away. "That's not all they were talking about."

"Huh?" He already knew where this was going, though.

"Some girls were saying . . . you were going to ask out someone on Thanksgiving." Before he could deny anything, she pressed on with, "So, I was wondering if you wanted to cancel going to dinner with Kid and the Thompsons in favour of going with your – date."

Soul noticed her falter on that last word, and he sighed, moving forward and taking a seat beside her on the wall. She looked over at him curiously and he could see the tired stress in her eyes. He hated this expression on Maka – the one that said she was quite clearly just over the world and the constant pressures of having to hate her stupid father. He lifted an arm unthinkingly and slung it over her shoulders. After a minute she moved over to be more comfortable under his casual embrace.

"Black*Star made that all up," he said in a low voice, making her tense and glance up at him. He looked out at the top of Gallows Manor, barely visible from the view, to avoid her gaze. "Some chicks were gonna' ask me out again, so he said that I was planning on dating someone to stop them making another scene like . . . last week."

He was expecting her to get riled up at the mention of their fight the previous week, but instead she sagged, more at-ease in his grip, and he could almost _feel_ the tension leave her soul wavelength. "Why would he say something like that to _help_ the situation?"

Soul pretended to ignore her odd reaction to the former comment. "It's Black*Star. He traded his brains for gumballs when he was a kid, I'm sure of it."

"I knew him when he was a kid," she giggled softly, "and I can't say I disagree."

"So, on a scale of one to the Hulk against Loki in _The Avengers_, how much did you kick your pervy dad's ass?"

_"At least_ to the level of Black Widow in the second _Iron Man_ movie," she replied with a laugh. "I had to half-carry him in, and not just because he wasn't completely sober."

"_Sweet_. You're always the coolest when I'm not there."

"That's because _you're_ the coolest when you're there."

He glanced down at her with a fond smile. "I taught you well."

She elbowed him, recovering from her down mood as he made jokes about her struggle. It was a good strategy that only he knew how to pull off just perfectly – he could make her feel better in almost any situation.

As she leaned into him and made another remark on how excited she was for _The Winter Soldier_ to come out the following year, he couldn't help but grin slightly as he thought back to the earlier conversation with everyone at the table, about who he would have asked to be his date on Thanksgiving were he being completely honest with who he liked.

_What do you know? Maybe Black*Star_ isn't_ so dumb after all_.

"Hey, Maka."

She looked up with tilted eyebrows, and he grinned before leaning down to press his lips against hers before she could blink or protest.

Let them talk about _this_.

* * *

*** - I'm Australian so I use 'mum.' Using 'mom' felt weird, illiterate and scary, but also kind of cool. That was for most of my readers who are American. Woo, bilingual! **

**I don't celebrate Thanksgiving but I'll probably do a story for it in two Thursdays' time, because it's on the 28th, yeah?**

**I'm such a Marvel fanatic. So keen for ****_Days of Future Past, _****although it's outside of the ****_Avengers_**** initiative****_._**** Hugh Jackman is just the world, the end. Someone give him to me for Christmas. **


End file.
